Total Exile to Xenia
by Bub-Omb
Summary: A small splash can make a huge ripple; whether in water, or in time. Katarina and Garen traverse a world destined to diminish, stuck in the carefully woven plot of Evaine LeBlanc. Are the resources of a dying world enough to conquer the new found threat? Chapters with the same numerical are occurring simultaneously.
1. Chapter 1: Garen Vs Katarina

The blank Mable room was beyond familiar to the two champions inside. The stone's bluish hint gleamed across the poorly decorated area, isolated from the rest of the Institute. Hardly a soul knew of its existence, and the two inside planned to keep it that way. Locked in a battle meant not to kill, but for a fairly playful fun, Garen and Katarina whirled about one another in a trance educing waltz of war.

Garen's sword crashed down to the floor just shy of cutting his crimson haired opponent in half. She jumped out of her roll dodge and threw two daggers his way, which landed in a lowered shoulder pad. She grinned and taunted him.

"Still hiding under that armor Garen?"

"Still hoping to distract your opponents through flaunting your cleavage?" he shot back.

"I'm just not still hiding myself in the armor given by my over protective mother," Katarina replied with a smirk.

They instantly snapped back to their regular fighting and their sword clashes rang through the room. Standing to the side, Talon, a former student in the arts of an assassin to Katarina's father, Marcus Du Couteau, watched the scene in front of him. They would fight and then stop to chit chat, perhaps their form of flirting, and then get back to fighting as if they did not know each other. Garen demonstrated his spinning sword dance technique and Katarina mimicked, but nearly a minute later they were back to attempting to end the other's life.

Shortly afterwards, Garen found himself hurled to the ground and slumped in a mass of armor. Talon rolled his eyes and executed a shunpo technique to teleport himself from his standing spot to just in front of Garen. He caught Katarina's daggers in midair and smirked, feeling a brush of wind blow his cape upwards, caught in the force of Garen's sword. Clearly, he had intended to deflect the daggers, but it was not needed.

"Talon…" Katarina whimpered, embarrassed that she had been caught fighting on the Institute of War's sacred grounds.

"I thought I told you to stop fighting before the League exiles you," he replied, holding onto his smug demeanor.

"I... Well..." she stammered. The cocky tone she had been using with Garen had completely evaporated. She turned to go back to her living quarters inside the Institute of War, not sure how the rest of her evening would pan out.

In the room, Talon turned to the Demacian, still crumpled in the corner. "Get up," he barked. Garen got his feet and saw a small drop of blood fall from the hand of the man opposite him.

"Why? You know that I would have deflected it?" Garen scoffed.

"I had no reason to believe a man laying the corner had the ability to stop a soaring projectile." Talon gently rubbed the blood of his fingertips together in attempt to make it stop. "Be glad you're alive and that I don't plan to turn you in." The Demacian replied with a grumble and marched out of the blue marble room, clearly upset with the night's outcome and the fact that he still had energy to burn.

"Now then..." Talon mumbled to himself. "Off to see that raven, Jericho Swain... I believe you have some useful information for me..."

Talon pulled his hood tight and marched out of the room, glad to know that Katarina was safe, regardless of how the rest of the night turned out. Confronting the man believed to be the cause of the disappearance of a legendary Noxian figure was not necessarily the safest action. 


	2. Chapter 2A: Katarina's Night

Katarina sat on her windowsill and stared out at the night sky, its stars a blight upon the black beauty. She found ample comfort in the dark veil, being able to see things with her trained assassin eyes through its shroud that most others could not. Nighttime provided the best opportunity to strike, and she had spent most of her life in it.

Being too excited from the adrenaline during her fight with Garen, Katarina was nowhere near tired. She sat and thought about what had happened, and tried to figure out why Talon had intervened. He could not have been trying to get her into trouble or embarrass her; Talon was not like that. Being the student of her father, Marcus, he seemed to hold some sort of obligation to keeping her safe.

The closeness Talon had to Katarina was not something he shared with anyone else. She once thought that she loved him, but after expressing her feelings, Talon replied with silence, and refusal to listen to her request. She liked having the guardian, but the feelings she once held, were let go long ago.

Garen, on the other hand, was quite different. Words like stealth and silence were probably not even in his extended vocabulary. He was large, bullheaded, strong, reckless, and devoted to his country of Demacia. Katarina mostly spent time fighting with him, much as she had mostly spent time around Talon when assigned to some sort of assassination mission, but she felt close nevertheless. Garen was literally her only target to survive her attempt on his life. She had been assigned to him by Marcus, but he did not seem upset when she came back empty handed. Instead, her father had smiled and told her that failure is sometimes the better option.

Katarina smiled as she remembered the day she had first met Garen. The event was far from a romantic one, but neither of them could have hoped for it any other way.

* * *

The day was cold but not only in the traditional sense of the weather. Bodies strewed the ground and left it a collage of Noxian red and black, and the Demacian gold and blue. Katarina slipped around the backline of her troops as she sought out the next unfortunate soul that dare linger too close to her blades.

As she slid around from cover to cover, she saw her father, Marcus, standing a little less than noticeable among the Noxian forces. He was fighting alongside foot soldiers, no doubt simply attempting to blend in the crowd to allow him to make an attempt on the life of someone much more important than a soldier's.

Katarina did not recall being informed of any sort of assassination mission by her father, so she let curiosity get the best of her and approached the man as tactfully as possible. The noise of war was a beautiful cover for one to move about unnoticed.

Before Katarina arrived beside her father, she noticed a large force advancing on the Noxian line and picked up the pace, seeing the potential risk of Marcus' cover being blown. Her father saw her approaching out of the corner of his eye, and pretended to trip over a fallen comrade. She crouched down beside him and he talked in a quieted voice while taking a knee.

"Katarina, is this honesty the most productive place to train yourself?"

"What? I could ask you the same thing. Why in the world are you here?"

"I have a mission. My target is a Demacian sitting a little higher on his horse than what's comfortable. And yourself? I do not recall having assigned you to anyone."

"What?" she scowled. "Am I not allowed to fight for my own country?"

"No, it's not that you aren't allowed to. It's just that you aren't needed here."

"Not needed here? You know that I am a better fighter than –"

"Stop," Marcus insisted. "You missed my meaning. Your skills are too much to waste here, especially if our forces were to get overrun."

"You don't trust that I can get out alive?" she asked, intentionally allowing the hurt in her voice to shine through.

"No, I don't trust that you will try to run instead of taking on an entire army alone." Katarina smiled at the response and Marcus shook his head with a grimace.

"Since you are here, you could help turn the tide of this battle if you take out that Demacian leading that troop to the west. Without him, they will just scramble. It would be a good way to disorient them." Katarina grinned and shot off to slip behind the advancing force.

The sun beat down brightly and the green grass swayed under her soft prance across the open field of war. She saw the leader Marcus was talking about. He was a sturdy and bulky man, about six feet tall, well kept hair and square jaw, suited in armor that just made his bulk more intimidating. The fear effect did not work on Katarina, but it would definitely help to instill terror in his unit as he fell bested.

She executed a few shunpo techniques to blink herself from existence and reappear behind rocks and trees on a steady approach towards her enemy. Just a few yards off from her target, she waited silently for the right moment. As the troop marched past her, the leader shifted aside to let his men go in front, and direct from the background. A sadistic smile crept over her face and she blinked in behind him to slash a knife across the back of his neck.

The man reacted instantly and grabbed her wrist out of the air before pulling her up over his body and slamming the woman to the ground on her back. After the second long shock, she twirled herself about and got to her feet, weapons ready, but face still holding surprise. The Demacian's smug look made her want to kill him twice as much as before, irritated by how proud he was for deflecting the attack.

"You are going to need to try harder than that to kill me," he scoffed. "Do you even know who I am?"

"A dead man," she replied before launching herself at him again. Katarina later found out he was Garen Crownguard, but did not bother to make it known at the time.

He held his hand out in front of him in a halting position, and spun his sword wielding arm over his head to crack down on top of her skull with the hilt of his sword. Katarina saw the intent and did her best to withdraw from her assault, but still took the blow in a slightly reduced force.

She staggered back, trying to keep her head from spinning, but could not keep her target still in her vision. A moment later she realized that Garen was actually spinning himself about as he approached, keeping his sword extended as he drew nearer.

Katarina panicked as she saw the whirling death blade en route, and looked for potential outs. The Demacian force he had been leading was deep in combat with the Noxians, and paid no attention to their captain who was fighting off an assassin in the backline.

She reached to her belt and began hurling knives at the man as fast as she could; watching most of them deflect off of his massive sword and well armored body. She frowned and watched as he stopped his rotation just to lunge and slice through the air in front of her with incredible accuracy. The fact that he never got dizzy from the act amazed her.

Katarina jumped backwards and continued to hurl more projectiles his way. The man lowered a burly shoulder and let the blades sink deep into his armored plates as he charged towards his opponent. She side-rolled to avoid the attack and found herself staring down a man whom she seemed incapable of landing a finger upon. Although she did not know it, Garen felt the same about her.

The two hurled themselves at one another as their respective blades slammed and crashed into one another repeatedly. From the outside, the duo looked like a flurry of friction induced sparks and metallically reflected sunlight. The Noxian colors of red and black blurred into the Garen's gold and blue to create the multicolored core to the show. Demacian troops had been victorious in their push, and turned to watch their captain in his plight. Many were amazed that the woman had lived as long as she did.

Seeing the crowd of opposing soldiers and the clearly outmatched rival, Katarina froze to contemplate options. Before her thoughts drew an answer, a loud boom echoed throughout the valley. Attention shifted to a man laying among the Noxian corpses, whom only Katarina recognized as Marcus. He quickly holstered the hidden gun he had used to shoot down one of the Demacians in the group, and bolted the opposite direction. The short attention of the half witted militia lured them to the bait, and Katarina seized the opportunity to slip away from the battlefield, enraged that Garen had lived through the fight, and unsure as to what her father's plan of escape was. However, she knew one thing for sure; she needed to fight that man again.

* * *

Her thoughts were interrupted as the door to her room opened. She instinctively threw a dagger its way and heard a large metal plated hand collapse around it. The knife fell to the floor and the hand then stroked a large, smooth chin.

"Garen?" Katarina asked. "What are you doing here?"

"I... Hmm..." The response puzzled her: rarely was the man at a loss for words. "I missed you Katarina."

"Garen, you know stupid mush is nothing I am interested in," she barked back, turning to face out of her open window once again.

"Katarina!" he demanded. She quickly darted her attention back at the Demacian, quite confused.

"It is not mush," he continued. "I meant it." Her face flushed as she heard the words and she swiveled herself to face the man.

"What are you talking about Garen?"

"I mean that I returned to my living quarters and could not get you out off of my mind. What am I talking about you ask? I am talking about you, and I.

"Garen I... Where did this come from?"

"It has been a long time coming, Katarina." The woman smiled and beckoned him over. He unfolded his arms and pulled himself away from the wall he was slouching on to approach her. She stood up and hugged the man, before whispering into his ear.

"Talon told me to go back to my room. He never said that you couldn't be here too."

"Keep a Demacian in the Noxian wing overnight? Katarina that's –"

"Risky?" she added for him. A smile crept over her face that spread to his.

"Incredibly," Garen replied, as he got up to close and latch the door.


	3. Chapter 2B: Jericho's Plight

Jericho Swain's gaze rested upon every surface of his room except the man floating just feet away from him. Encounters with Malzahar were always less than welcome, but he was a powerful ally to hold on to. Unfortunately, his impatience was ever diminishing as results continued to require preparation time to execute.

"You promised me sacrifices, Swain. The Void hungers," his eerie voice rang out as he hovered in place. His purple robes hung over his face so that nothing more than beady yellow eyes glowed from within. An ethereal essence of a violet haze sparkled about him, reminding onlookers that he was the key to a portal into, or out of the Void. It was said to be created from a gap between two dimensions, but its ease of access and potential survivability, accompanied by its massive size, gives the impression of it being more of a parallel universe than anything. Regardless, it was not a very friendly place, and Malzahar had the ability to send people into, or out of, it.

"I am fully aware of what I promised. But you are also fully aware of the fact that preparation takes time. You will have all of the people that you need, and ever could hope for, in a few months. But there is something else I could use you for in the meantime."

"You ask more of me, and you have given me nothing yet. Why should I trust you at all Swain? Why can't you just give me what I ask for?"

"Listen here you Void-born worm, all I need you to do is lock away one person. They will be arriving at my door here shortly. Banish them, and all your work is done as we finish preparations here in Runeterra."

"Hrmph. You know what lies in wake if you decide not to fulfill your end of the bargain, don't you Jericho?"

"Yes, yes, quite. So do I have your word? You will take care of them for me?"

"Yes. I enjoy the task of banishment anyways."

"Very well. Then our meeting here is adjourned." Jericho turned, sat at his desk, pulled out a quill and parchment, and set to writing a letter. The background noises of Malzahar carrying out his job were hardly a distraction as he set to writing, informing a different partner of the situation.

_Dearest Evaine,_

_As my quill sets to this page the next step of our plan is being set in motion. With the fool out of the picture, we will be capable of creating our replacement, much as we did for Prince Jarvan IV. It will be a very expendable and thus exceptionally useful ally to add to our roster. I do hope you have the resources required for the spell. Meet me at our usual spot in Noxus, tomorrow at noon. Let me know if there are any complications._

_Sincerely, Jericho_

Happy with the letter, he folded it and taped it shut, handed it to his bird, Beatrice, and made his way to the large window of his room.

"I thank you for your work Malzahar. You are welcome to leave when you like," Jericho said. The man grunted and cruised out of the room, not bothering to shut the door. Rolling his eyes, he limped over and pushed it closed with his cane. Running his hands through his thinning hair, he pet Beatrice in remembrance of the act of braveness she executed to save his life from the poisonous bolt in his leg, so many years ago.

Returning to the window, he pushed on the metallic hinges and let the wide frame creak as it opened. With another nuzzle to his bird, she took off into the night sky with the letter in her talons. Exhausted from the day's work, he moved to his bed and lay down. He much preferred the comfort of his own home, but it was necessary to be at the Institute on that night, more or less as bait. Grinning to himself he rolled over to his side and drifted to sleep, letting his plans run over and over in his head. Success was nearing, but plenty still had to be done to guarantee secrecy.


	4. Chapter 2C: Rise of the Moon

Reflections of the moon's gentle glow radiated off of an arced blade, held tightly in a silver haired woman's grasp. Her skin was pale and her hair was worn long, held back by a headband; an ornament of the ancient black armor she donned. She inhaled slowly, and puffed her chest out drastically as the air came into her lungs. She was athletic and well figured, but her heart ached in such a way that left her weak to the knees, slouching, and practically gasping for breath.

She knew she needed help, but not a thing on the planet deserved her trust after she just slaughtered the elder's of her own village, collapsing the sacred shrine around them. She had been sentenced to execution for treason, and she had to make a move or lose her life, but the decision meant that home was no longer a welcomed place to be.

She stared longingly at the road ahead of her, completely unsure as to what path she should take. Unable to make a choice, she slowly marched forward, hoping that something would come by to give her guidance in her time of need.

After an hour of walking, holding her blade tight in one hand and gently rubbing her shoulder with the other – a simple act that seemed to provide warmth regardless of who did it – she came across a small shack resting on the side of the road, half embedded in a mountain.

She walked towards the shack and leaned against the door, using it to support herself. Her hair fell in a scraggly mess against the wood and she tried steadying her breath to listen to the inside. It was relatively silent, so she moved to open the door. The latch held tightly so she mustered the strength to slam her shoulder against it until the hinges gave way. A slow scan revealed that no one stood on the inside.

She approached the bed lying in the corner, slightly aglow from the rays of light seeping through scattered cracks in the building. She ran her hand along its covers and a thick line drew into the dust lying over the surface. Scattered particles littered the air, forcing her to brush them out of her view.

A few tools sat along one of the walls, including a shovel and a torch. She surmised that it may be a grave keeper's shack of sorts, and dug through the pantries in search of some food. She found dried fruits and nuts – nonperishable items – and stashed them in a sack she pilfered the room as well. Munching on the snacks, she slowly walked towards the end of the room she had not searched through yet.

More odds and ends were strewn over the floor so she pushed them aside with her foot, making sure no surprises lay in wait. As she cleared the ground, a strange metallic sound resonated through the room. Confused, she set down her weapon and patted the flooring trying to mimic the noise. It seemed that a circular segment of the floor was made of metal instead of wood, and she tried to pry the panel up. Taking her weapon back in hand, she popped the tile out and gazed down to the tunnels beneath. With only a soft glow beneath her to acknowledge its existence, she decided to slide down and begin to scour the strange place.

Still without any idea as to where she was headed, she pressed forward for a perpetually long time, just wanting to see a face of someone she did not already know; perhaps for comfort, or perhaps just to know that she was not the only person in the world who was alone.

A light shone from far away, almost as an exit appears to be a small dot inside a train tunnel. Intrigued, the woman began to jog towards the source until a strange chime echoed out from the same direction. It was so peculiar that she locked up completely, enticed to just gaze to the distance, wondering what the foreign sound was.

Wind rushed past her with such tremendous force that she had to shift a foot back and face the gale head on to stay upright. The light began to become larger and larger until it completely engulfed her vision. Turning her head to the side, she saw a large red and gold figure blur past her, causing her to react with a loud scream, and all was still. She rotated to see the light fade out in the opposite direct just as quickly as it had come, and a gentle jingle rang in air.

Her hair fell back to her side as the wind left, and she turned to continue down the original path, not seeing any sort of additional harm befalling her from the creature that had passed. But only a few steps further and another noise bounced off of the tunnel walls.

A squishing sound grew louder and louder, alternating like footsteps of a person running. She braced once again, prepared to face whatever else lurked in the strange complex.

Moments later a large green gelatinous figure rounded a nearby corner and halted in its tracks. It stared with a broad smile and slicked back the top of its head, much as a man would do with his hair.

"I was scared stiff champ. Thought someone was in serious trouble. You doin' alright?"

"I..." the woman croaked, unsure how to respond to the talking humanoid blob.

"Oh, where are my manners. Name's Zac. You?"

"Um... Di... Diana. My name's Diana."

"Lovely name. Do you need any help Diana? I heard a scream."

"No I..." she paused, taking a moment to reconsider her words. "Well, I am not in danger. I just saw a mouse. But I killed it. Dead."

"Oh. Um..." Zac stammered

"Sorry, I... Can you help me get out of here?"

"Yeah. Where are you headed?"

"I don't know. I just needed to see a friendly face. Traveling alone is cold."

"Ha! That it is. C'mere champ. Let's get back to the surface," he said with a wide smile.

"Yes, please."


	5. Chapter 2D: Midnight Run

Inside of the small sheriff's office, lightly littered with papers, intercoms, and the high tech television monitor that displayed vastly important messages that needed attention, two people stood looking rather grim. The woman entering the office had a mess of pink hair, shaven off on one side and pulled into a ponytail at the back, with her own name, or at least alias, tattooed to her cheek, "Vi". Her cop clothing was hardly standard issue, looking more like street clothes adorned with advanced military grade gauntlets, powered through the wonders of hextech, that let her punch down even the thickest of steel doors with ease. She leaned on the desk of her superior, Caitlyn, and her metallic gloves pressed into the wood, making its structure groan under the force. The sheriff paid it no mind, more distraught about the news being told to her.

She straightened her purple gown and tightened her boots, holding her tall hat up with the opposite hand. They rushed out of the office and headed towards the downtown district, planning to stop the chaos before it spread too far. The two had hardly gotten halfway there before the effects of the terrorist attack had become apparent.

The street lights illuminated the concrete paths and the citizens flooding down them. Ahead, a sparking flickered, leaving intermittent vision of the downtown district's sky, where the street lights did not shine. Smoke could be seen billowing into the atmosphere as the flashes permitted vision, ensuring that more than one building sat ablaze. The scene drew a concerned look from Caitlyn, who received a less than concerned shrug from her partner. Annoyed, she pressed into the district, allowing herself to become in the center of the destruction.

The duo crept through the buildings in search of the source, fairly aware of what it was without seeing it. A particular individual had been recently striking at various locations in a seemingly random chaotic manner, seeking nothing more than the thrill of destruction. A few more minutes of searching proved their hunch to be correct.

In an alleyway, just a short distance in front of the officers, stood the woman they had in mind. She went by the name of Jinx, whether or not it was her given name, and had no rhyme or reason to her madness. She hardly wore anything over her abnormally skinny figure that did not double as ammunition or a weapon, aside from her combat boots. She sported her light blue hair in long pigtails that drooped to her feet.

The woman sprinted in the opposite direction almost immediately, cackling her way down the alley. Her overly enthusiastic demeanor was resemblant of a cartoon villain, which made the nature of her destruction even more moralless. The cops followed the echoing laughter into a burning apartment building, hearing the soft roar of fire crackle from behind closed doors as they ascended. If the culprit had an escape route, so did they.

No voices could be heard from inside of the rooms; presumably all occupants had evacuated or deceased, either from the fires or the madwoman sprinting through the building. Either way, taking down the target was a high priority.

At the top level of the apartment building, with smoke and heat gathering in the enclosed space, Caitlyn and Vi stood at the end of the hallway, staring down the emptiness. Jinx had disappeared, presumably inside one of the rooms. No doors were already open, but a steady stream of water leaked out from beneath one on the right hand side. The cops stood on either side of the doorway, trying to listen to what was inside.

Growing impatient in the silence, Vi smashed the door from its frame and charged inside of the room. It was empty, just as the hallway was, but the water seeped from the bathroom at an alarming rate. Caitlyn motioned to hesitate and stared into the water from around the slightly propped open door. The reflection of woman's blue hair could be seen, and Caitlyn backed off to take aim with her rifle. Guessing her location based off of the reflection, she fired a series of shots through the wall.

A yelp rang out from the sound of splintering wood and gunshots as the hextech weapon, fueled by a liquidized form of mana, repeatedly slung out lead.

"Stop that!" Jinx yelled from the other side. "You are going to hit Blazey!" Throwing a confused look Vi's way, she hesitated long enough to allow her to smash through the fractured wall with her gauntlets. To her amazement, the room was completely empty. A clanging could be heard from above, implying the she was escaping through the architecture of the ceiling, but a hissing noise remained over the flowing water. Looking to the ground, a flamethrower sat spewing out gas, keeping the open flame from its tank with nothing more than the force of the exerted gas.

"The window!" Vi yelled at Caitlyn. Confused, but willing to oblige, she shot the glass out and was swept up by her ally in a hurried leap. The two landed on the roof of a nearby building, turning just in time to catch a glimpse of the explosion in the room they had just been in, moments ago. It chained up to other flammable objects inside the building and began to topple the structure entirely.

Curled up in Vi's gloves, Caitlyn placed a gentle hand on her cheek.

"Aww, my hero," she said sarcastically. Vi rolled her eyes and dropped her partner straight to ground, receiving a grunt and a laugh in response. She recuperated from the fall and called in the fire department with the headset attached to her hat.

"Think she got out?" Vi asked

"Yeah. She always does."

"Damn her!" Vi shouted while punching her fists together. "Why does she do this? She is completely insane!"

"I know Vi. Most villains are."

"What, was I insane when you first found me?"

"Not at all. Which is why I managed to recruit you. Everyone has their motivations and reasoning for what they are doing. That doesn't make us a bad guy. What makes us a bad guy is when there is no reasoning to out crimes, and it becomes pleasurable."

"So pretty much exactly who Jinx is?"

"Precisely. No justice system will let her off easy once we catch her."

"Assuming I don't kill her when we do."

Caitlyn let out a chuckle. "Yes Vi, assuming."


	6. Chapter 3A: Out the Back

A soft sun beam shone over Garen's face from a direction he was not accustomed to. He moved to sit up and felt weight holding him back. Letting the memories of his previous night flood back into his mind, he gently shifted Katarina's arm off of his stomach, which awoke her with a startle.

She leapt out of bed, clearly confused as well, and Garen shot a smug look her way. Frowning, she slapped him across the face to wipe the grin away, and got herself dressed before she gained more embarrassment.

Once donned in their usual garments, Garen was about to casually stroll out of the room when Katarina snatched his hand away. He looked at her, confused.

"You HONESTLY think that you can just stroll out of my room in the middle of the day, in front of half of the Noxian wing, and not get stabbed to death for doing so? Or get ME stabbed to death?"

"Ummm..." Garen mumbled, seeing the predicament he was in. "So your best alternative is...?"

"Well, seeing as you are about as stealthy as a walrus on gravel..." Garen replied to the comment with a frown and folded his arms. The simple act clanked his armor and created an exceptional amount of noise. His frown turned into a grimace and Katarina shook her head.

"Look," she continued. "You can either slide out that window and hope to make your way back to the Demacian quarters with little attention, or get us both killed by walking out that door. With a shrug, the large man strolled to the window and peered out. The drop was a solid twenty feet. Sizable, but far from lethal. With a heavy sigh he heaved himself through the opening and fell to the ground.

A loud thud resonated out in accompaniment with the metal creaks of his armor, and he sat in a squatted position for a few moments as he allowed himself to recuperate from the fall. Standing upright, he had to shield his eyes from the sun's glare. Luckily, there did not seem to be more than a few birds in the sky, meaning his venture around the perimeter towards the Demacian wing should go relatively unseen.

About ten minutes later, as he neared his destination, he saw a figure approaching him. Knowing that he was already spotted, and being so close to the Demacian quarters already, he found it would be easier to come up with a tale than to run away.

"Garen!" the woman barked.

"Yes?" he inquired.

"What are you doing here? Do you have a pass from the Institute?"

"Who are you to ask? Shant I ask the same of you?" Garen tested.

"Of course you wouldn't know me... My name's Quinn you oaf. I work in the Demacian military and the Institute as an information specialist. I have every right to ask what you are up to, Garen Crownguard." Her look narrowed as she felt she had the man cornered, but his response came without hesitation.

"Oh, so a spy? Not the best idea to proclaim that title so loudly –"

"I am NOT a –" Quinn rejected, but Garen continued his statement.

"So you shall inform Jarvan himself that Garen was going for a stroll around the perimeter of the Institute, still within standard allowable range without a pass or leave of absence, and was confronted head on by Quinn when she boldly announced that she was a spy in hopes of instigating a reasonable answer out of Garen. Is that accurate?" The woman replied with a scowl and Garen pushed forward on his way. She did not say another word to him but it was beyond clear that she was not happy with the response.

He made his way back to the Demacian wing and looked at the League matches posted. Alongside it was a list of Champions who were currently dismissed from games either by request, injury, or emergency. He saw only a few people on the list, one of which was his sister, Luxanna Crownguard. Not remembering mention of her leave, he looked to the reason for the absence and saw the word "request" written next to it. He knew that his relationship with his sister was not the strongest one, but it often seemed that she hardly cared at all to strengthen their bond. He grimaced and went back to his own room, trying to figure out what lie in his day ahead.

* * *

Meanwhile, Katarina left her room to check the Noxus boards for League matches taking place. Just outside of her room, she was met by a summoner, who came holding a small scroll, indicating that he was there to deliver a message.

"Katarina Du Couteau? The High Summoners have a message for you."

"What," she spat, clearly not wanting to be interrupted.

"It seems that Talon is currently missing. We are doing our best to locate him, but he was not present in this morning's match."

"Not present? Champions can be summoned no matter where they are. What are you not telling me?" she demanded.

"That is all of the information I have for you. But I must ask... Who were you talking to in your room? I hear voices as I approached." Katarina responded to the question with a sharp glare and walked away. Curious, the summoner put his ear to her door in hopes of listening in on the other side. Moments later he saw a plethora of Katarina's daggers sticking in the door just in front of his eyes, and ran off before he was too terrified to do so.

Annoyed and confused, she proceeded to check the match listing.


	7. Chapter 3B: The Isle's Troubles

The stench of death and decay polluted the air of the Shadow Isles on a daily basis. Its inhabitants were very accustomed to the air of the dreaded place, and seemed to thrive off of the thought of lost souls wandering aimlessly.

One such being went by the name of Hecarim, a spectral centaur creature armored for war and wielding a large lance. His hooves burnt deep into the ground as he galloped along, scanning the Isles and taking in the surroundings.

A new member had recently arisen, serving by the name of Thresh. He carried chains in his hands, reminiscent of his days as a jailer. One chain had a lantern on it, which housed a massive quantity of souls from the victims he had tortured over the years. The other chain was attached to a hook, used more frequently as a weapon than a tool.

He seemed to think himself to be king of the Shadow Isles. Feeding off of the souls of others, and capable of ripping it from the weak or weary, he seemed to think that other should revere him. What he failed to recognize was that many members of the Isles had powers that backed them with armies, instead of abusing them for personal strength.

Hecarim himself was backed by a spectral army of mythical creatures, Yorick Mori, the gravedigger who never let go of his family spade, use it to summon countless ghouls to his aid, Mordekaiser could command the ghosts of the fallen, and the list went on.

Still, either a lack of knowledge or caring of their strengths, he continually harassed and threatened the others. Of course, this did not go unnoticed, which is what led Hecarim to where he stood.

Hiding amongst the trees, he watched Thresh engage on Yorick.

"How are you on this... lovely day, Yorick my good man?" Thresh cackled. Annoyed, the gravedigger ignored his banter and went about continuing to dig graves for the deceased.

"You know Mr. Mori, for every grave you dig, a soul I gain. Oh the music they play... It's rather melodic. I can't think of a more beautiful sound in the world. Can you my friend?"

"I don't know. What sound do you make when you die?" he retorted, finally deciding to shoot back at his attacker.

"What?! Do you mock me, Mr. Mori?"

"Mock is what a bird does. I am flat out telling you I would find pleasure in digging your grave."

"Bah! Fools, all of you! Once I have the souls I need, it is I who will be burying YOU."

"Let me know when that it is, and I will gladly lend you my shovel." Scowling at the remark, Thresh stormed off towards a fairly remote portion of the Isles. Curious, Hecarim followed silently until he stopped walking. Keeping his distance to avoid being seen, he determined to be out of earshot as well.

A quick series of purple rings appeared in midair spawned a woman in similarly colored elegant garb and a strange headdress. She approached Thresh and began to discuss something inaudible. Hecarim channeled his mana flow to create a series of spectral horsemen, who he used to run nearby at a casual rate, not too far from ordinary of a sight among the Shadow Isles. With each centaur's passing, he picked up on a glimpse of the conversation.

"Thresh, you know we must wait for the opportunity. The world does not seem to know who you are. Adding you now would be..."

...

"... prove it to you?! You want me to topple a leader?! How about you and I duel, here and now?!"

"On your home turf? I am smarter than that Thresh my..."

...

"Look you have dedication to join. I can see that much. But for now I have a meeting with an old friend I must attend..."

...

"Bah! Off with her wicked soul! When the day comes I shall scream with delight as she suffers with agony!" he shouted shortly after the woman had left. Hecarim was not positive as to what Thresh was wanting membership to, but odds were it had something to do with the most powerful and influential organization in Runeterra, the League of Legends. If he managed to gain access, the souls of some of the strongest beings in the world will be within striking distance. If something were to lower the League's guard, his threat level would become exponential. Hecarim took the knowledge and sent ghastly messengers to seek out the other members of the Shadow Isles to inform them of Thresh's plans. 


	8. Chapter 3C: Revival of a Relic

Shurima Desert seemed to be the biggest maze in all of Runeterra while housing not a single wall. The pressure of the sun's heat continually beating down without any obstacles to break its path did not seem to contribute well to the potential disorientation.

Among the confusion stood a pair of explorers, both holding slim figures and bright blonde hair, worn long for their respective genders. The male was Ezreal, a child prodigy from Piltover, the female was Garen's sister, Luxanna Crownguard. They were searching the desert for supposed lost ruins, but no one seemed to know where to look, and they were running out of leads.

"Luuux..." Ezreal groaned, exhausted from the heat.

"What's up? Not tired already are you?"

"I don't know where you store all of that energy, Lux. It's like seven hundred degrees out here."

"So? A little sun is good for you Ez!" she said with a smile. It forced a smile out of him as well and they tracked on through the desert together.

Just ahead of them, they saw a separate troop scouting through the desert. Curious, they followed but as soon as their armaments came into plain view, they were certain to keep distance.

For hours the explorers kept up their pursuit, and it began to seem as if they were searching for the ruins as well. With an abrupt stop, the unknown troop talked amongst themselves for a few minutes before disappearing into the ground. Upon further inspection, they found that the strangers had descended into a hidden door under the sand. Skeptical but adventurous, the duo entered the ruins just outside of audible distance from the others.

Ezreal's enchanted gauntlet began to glow a luminescent yellow as they descended. He had found the trinket on an expedition in Shurima previously, and it no doubt was having some sort of magical reaction to the surroundings.

"This is it..." Ezreal whispered, holding up his glowing glove.

"Amazing... How did they find it first? Who are we following?" Lux asked. Ezreal shook his head, not having any idea what the answers to her question were, but knowing all too well that they were legitimate.

The light dimmed out drastically as they climbed down, seeing just an occasional, long burnt out torch in the glow Ezreal provided. Luxanna, being highly trained in light bending magics, held an orb of luminosity with her to be certain she could see if the glove's light cut out.

The cracked stone around them was dyed a deep brown color, no doubt lacking sunlight and water for thousands of years. A few insects scattered the steps, being sure to make enough noise that no one could mistake their presence. How they had survived for so many thousands of years in such a rotten tomb was beyond their comprehension.

Eventually a new light came into view, just ahead of the explorers. Excited to see an end to the stairwell, they picked up the pace to see what secrets lay before them.

The room giving off the light was absolutely phenomenal. Gold and treasures lined every wall and floor, nook and cranny. The magically enhanced torches burned bright and strong, reflecting off of the metallic surfaces of the vast sea of trinkets lying about. Had the two been interested in riches instead of knowledge, they would be wealthy for life if they claimed the tomb as theirs.

A short ways ahead there was a scene unfolding with the troop they had been pursuing. It seemed that one of the members, whom Ezreal recognized as a woman named Sivir who fought in the League of Legends, had been betrayed and lie on the ground bleeding profusely. Before he could rush to aid her, the betrayer was caught in an enchanted serpentine grasp and one of the walls of the tomb exploded open.

From its interior emerged an enraged crocodile-like being, sputtering nonsense and flailing about with his giant bladed weapon. In tow was a being that crackled with an undying power, sparking energy off of its body in random succession. Mortified, Ezreal attempted to back up, but Lux pointed a finger at a small whirlwind of dust and sand beginning to collect in the corner of the room. Intrigued, they waited out of sight as the room grew increasingly violent.

A series of purple rings indicated the arrival of a new champion from the League, Nasus, most likely having sensed a disturbance in the balance of powers in Shurima.

Almost immediately after his arrival, the jackal headed being locked himself in combat with the crocodile.

"Be at peace my brother!" Nasus called.

"Peace?! PEACE?! You lock me away for centuries and you want peace?! I will rip you to pieces you traitorous swine!" A laugh was heard in the background as the sparking creature slowly found the consciousness within itself to hoist itself upright.

"Let out your anger, Renekton!" It ordered the crocodile.

"Xerath! I locked you away once, I will do it again if need be," Nasus said.

"YOU locked me away? Do you hear this Renekton? He is taking credit for YOUR sacrifice!"

"A sacrifice awaiting blood!" Renekton screamed, lunging at his brother, blade slinging through the air. It was met by a poleax and forced towards the ground. Summoning his flow of mana, Nasus thrusted an open hand outwards in Xerath's direction, allowing a flurry of scarabs and other decrepit insects to buzz around it, housing a strong magic that siphoned the energy from the powerhouse, retracting the progress it had made in recuperating from its release from the tomb.

Temporarily disabling the secondary threat, Nasus was allowed to focus entirely on besting his brother, but it seemed that the years of imprisonment had done nothing more than store rage and energy. Behind the picture, the whirlwind of sand had begun to take the shape of a figure, standing upright like a man but with a beak and wings like a bird. Still without definition, it began to walk towards the bleeding woman on the ground.

It scooped her up and shifted towards the entrance to the tomb. Luxanna grabbed Ezreal's shoulder and coaxed him backwards, and they sprinted up the eternally long staircase they had just ventured down.

Trying to stay in front of the sandy creature, they checked back over their shoulders periodically to see more and more of the figure take definition. Being well versed in the history of Shurima, it was not necessary to ponder who the being was; it had to be Azir, emperor of Shurima, lost long ago in the same struggle for power that had locked Xerath and Renekton away for so long. It seemed that something about the woman dying in his arms had brought him back to life, after her bladed weapon had been used by the adventurers to unlock the tomb.

Once outside, back in the eternally blazing sun's heat, Luxanna and Ezreal got plenty clear of the tomb and watched Azir walk past them, towards an oasis in the desert, perhaps a magically enchanted one that may be capable of aiding Sivir.

"This…" Lux mumbled. "This seems so surreal."

"Resurrection of Shurima's Emperor… I never could have imagined such an event taking place, let alone within this lifetime, in front of our eyes."

"It just seems so… bizarre."

"Yeah… That's one way to put it. We should uh… should probably get going," Ezreal said, not wanting to stay in the desert any longer, especially knowing what kinds of threats lurked very near to their location.

"Right. I guess we found the tomb. I feel we will need to wait to excavate it more."

"And frankly, I'm in no rush to excavate it anytime soon." Lux gave a curt laugh in response.

"No Ez, I don't think anyone would be."


	9. Chapter 3D: The Void

The darkness of the Void left little light to see the creatures lurking in its depths. The strange slithering sound of unknown beings going from place to place provided an odd and yet somewhat comfortable feeling, as if the knowledge of other living things within a vicinity was enough to reassure oneself that they were not completely alone.

A woman slouching against a tree-like structure stared off into the emptiness with a blank look on her face, unsure if the world truly knew she still existed, or if it cared at all. She let her gaze fall to the ground beside her in a limp head rolling manner. She stared at her bowler hat and grabbed it with one of her hands, flicking it up into the air. With a quick shuffle, she got to her feet, allowing the hat to land on her head as she marched away. Seconds later, a massive darkened purple set of jaws erupted from the ground and swallowed the structure she had been leaning against just moments ago. She kept walking forward, completely unfazed from the life threatening event she had just narrowly avoided.

Her black, thinly striped, suit was tattered and worn, while her bowler only let a scraggly mess of blue dyed hair strands hang out from the edges. The top of her head began to show browning where the dye had no longer been applied since her time in the Void. Her face was quite simple and somewhat sunken in with her extremely skinny figure. Her skin was naturally very pale, even before being sent to a sunless realm.

She marched forward in an overly enthusiastic manner, hoisting her knees up high and swinging her arms widely as she went. In the distance her destination stood, more easily distinguishable against the purple hazy background the Void provided than she was. Seeing nothing more in the sky than a small ripple in the blackness, she stared up with a wide smirk.

A quick flip and a kick off of a nearby Void structure later, she landed on a small island, containing nothing more than a few trees and largest expanse of ocean imaginable. By the looks of the fog that permanently lingered over the horizon, it was likely near the Shadow Isles. No ship ever dared sailed within a hundred mile radius of the Isles, so staying on the island was somewhat pointless. The woman frequently stopped by the hole in the Void to catch a few fish and knock a coconut from one of the trees if it had one, then hop back into the portal. If she had any hope of escape, she had to spend her days scouting the Void for any other ripples. It was likely that its closeness to the Shadow Isles was the only reason it had gone unnoticed, but that did not mean ripples could not exist anywhere else.

Back in the black maze, a coconut in hand, she looked around for any disturbances. She was not yet tired enough to rest, which she usually did on the island – which had affectionately been named the Ripple Island Pasture, or Rip for short – due to the sporadic lethal tendencies of the "wildlife" of the Void. Way off in the distance a soft light glowed a bright blue color. Being such an outstanding feature, it was incredibly difficult to determine the distance, but she had nothing better to do so she set off in the direction.

Walking in he Void had been a strangely hard task to master; the amount of dependency sight has upon walking is not something most people realize prior to loosing the ability see surroundings. As she approached, hardly to her surprise, the light had remained stationary. If the light was coming from a soul unfortunate enough to have been plopped down into the Void, it was likely that they has found walking much too difficult, and chosen to remain still.

The woman pondered her options; she could call out to the light source in hopes of it being a conscious creature that could reply, and pray that the noise was not enough to trigger a Void lurking monster to her location, she could continue walking towards the source assuming it was actually within reasonable walking distance, or she could assume her eyes were playing tricks on her again in the decrepit place and turn around back towards Rip.

As if too impatient to let her make a chose, she saw the light begin to approach her. Judging by the pace and distance being covered, it was only a few miles away. Again, she had to ponder her options. If she turned to flee to her island, and the light was some sort of Void lurking sentinel, she could lose her only safe haven. However, standing still to allow a potential threat to approach her was also a terrible idea.

Seeing a nearby structure, reminiscent of an old and crumbled building, she ran towards it and quickly climbed to the top, wanting to be sure she could scout the area below without being too noticeable, and having a little protection simultaneously. She sat for awhile until the light source came into fill view before her. It was clearly a man, but the reason for its glowing was still strange to her. He looked pretty shady, definitely a person she would never talk to in any other given circumstance.

"Hey!" she called out below before quickly ducking her head behind a half torn down wall. The strange black material lined with purple lights was hardly distinguishable from the natural aura of the Void. She sat and waited before peeking her eyes back out above the wall, to see how the man had reacted. To her amazement, she saw nothing below. She got to a full stand and looked back and forth in an attempt to find the man or his blue glow.

Scratching her head, she was yanked back and thrust up against a wall with a knife at her neck. She allowed an overly dramatic and fairly audible gulp roll down her throat, as a smile curled over the corners of her lips.

"Do you plan to kill the only other human stuck in this hell?" she teased. Without lowering his guard, he continued to carry out the conversation.

"Not unless you plan to tell me why I shouldn't," he snarled.

"Oooh, touchy AND hostile. Don't see that combination from strong men everyday!"

"No on needs strength when they have the skills necessary to best a stronger opponent." A short pause ensued.

"Are… Are you lecturing me? I don't know if that's cute or weird." The man hardly hesitated before jumping off of the strange structure and beginning to walk away. The responseless manner of his departure was far beyond abnormal.

"Hey G!" she called out after him, but he continued his walk anyways. She jumped down and ran after him, slapping him on the shoulder when she caught up.

"Where are you going? You will die out here alone you know."

"I'd rather die in silence than live listening to you," he snarled.

"Well then. I suppose you won't need to know where the food is at then, will you?"

"I suppose I won't." And with those words he kept marching in the randomly selected direction he had been going.

"Hey c'mon G! I ain't that bad!"

"Stop calling me G. In fact, stop calling to me at all. Find a cozy, or not so cozy, corner, curl up in it, and cease existence. That is probably the best way you could help me right now."

"Okay I thought you were touchy an hostile, but I'm pretty sure that you are just messed up in the head." G glared back at her and she circled her ear with a pointer finger. "You know? Bonkers? Kookoo? Bananas? Dropped on the head as an orphan child?" His glare continued. "Would it kill you to smile?"

"Yes," he stated dully and turned around again.

"Fine!" the woman stomped. "Don't talk to me! But I AM going to follow you."

"Good. I could use live bait, or some extra kindling."

"Tellin' ya man, totally, bonkers."

* * *

After another thirty minutes or so of walking in silence, the woman began to grow amazingly impatient. Perhaps she had been a little too assertive in trying to get G to talk, but it was a tactic that typically worked on strangers, especially when their other option was to stare off into the blankness of the Void without any other being to socialize with. But something about G stood out to her. It was not that he typically felt more comfortable in isolation and silence, it was more like he had been trained to enjoy it. Along with being the only human she had seen in awhile, and the ominous glow about his body that let curiosity spike into her, she wanted to figure out the nature of his strange behavior.

The man did not seem to mind her following closely behind, so long as she kept her mouth shut. He hardly faltered from a straight path in any way, to the woman's amazement. Such a feat was incredibly difficult to master in the Void, let alone after having just entered a short while ago, unless he had managed to survive and only happened to recently wander in her direction. Curious, she broke her vow and verbalized her questions.

"Have you been in here long, G?" A pause ensued which lead the woman to believe she was not going to get a response.

"Why do you insist on calling me G?" he finally said, still not answering her question.

"Hey no fair! I totally asked my question first! You tell me, and I'll tell you."

"Fine," he replied, not wanting to take the bargain.

"Uuugh," she groaned. "I call you G 'cause that was the letter that fit best! I have labeled everything around here with some sort of letter or acronym. So I decided that G should be yours, until I get to know more about you."

"That hardly makes –"

"Hey! Answer my question first!" I held up my end!" A little more silence persisted and it seemed he finally gave in.

"A few hours ago. I found you by chance." She nodded in approval and decide to keep quiet as G ran throughout the Void without having much rhyme or reason to his movements. On occasion he would pause and look around, rotate, and continue in an amazingly straight line. The woman let out an overly dramatic yawn and a stretch.

"So? Give up yet? I know I could use some shuteye! Want me to point you to the safest spot?"

"It's over there," he said pointing in the exact direction of the Void ripple. "There is a small hole in the air, accessible by a good vault off of the nearby rock-like Void structure. It isn't an escape route, but it at least provides food and clean air."

"Wha… How did you know that!" she exclaimed.

"There had to be some sort of entrance to the real world. I had a feeling that air would not be a natural occurrence in the Void. Where I landed, the air was thin, but present. I kept walking where the air felt most dense, being closer to the source. At this point, it has to be in that direction. But if it was an escape route, unless you are an idiot, you would have used it already."

"Piltovian, right? You have to be. Nowhere else has the brains to formulate that."

"Hmph. Believe what you want, but it would probably be wise to go get some rest," G stated.

"Nailed it! Nailed it nailed it nailed it!" she chanted while G walked towards the ripple. As they approached, the woman excitedly took the lead and flipped up into the island outside of the Void.

"I call this Rip! Ripple Island Pasture!"

"The acronym is also short for the first word. Could you be less creative?"

"Hey! I haven't heard you give ME a nickname yet! You probably aren't any more creative yourself!"

"How about 'obnoxious asshole'?" he replied.

"That's longer than my actual name! You just wanted the chance to insult me!"

"Oh how did you guess?" She stuck her tongue out at the remark and he grinned, kicking his way off the rock and onto the island beside her. He wasted no time in shoveling aside some sand to lay himself down into, simply hoping that the tide did not rise high enough to wash him away with it. If the nights looked stormy, he figured that an attempt to sleep in the coconut tree would be safer.

"Sooo?" the woman pressed, clearly still looking for a nickname.

"Cat," he said.

"Cat? What's a cat got to do with me?"

"You are about as persistently annoying as a mangy cat." She frowned and laid down in the sand next to G.

"I am going to say that you think I am cute like a cat!"

"Cute as a cat run over by a truck."

"Hey!" she exclaimed, but G rolled over and ignored her. Upset about her nickname, even though she was the one who had pushed for it, Cat stared off at the stars and drifted to sleep.


	10. Chapter 3E: Tunnel Rats

The night dragged on for Diana as she continued to roam the underground tunnels with Zac, and it had not been long before she grew weary and needed rest. Zac had morphed his body into a bed, and while Diana was a bit skeptical, she accepted the comfort and slept for a few hours.

Waking up fairly restless, she got back to her feet and they continued through the tunnels. Zac did not want to disturb her peace if she meant to keep the silence, but in actuality it gnawed at her. Unfortunately, Diana was fully aware that people tended to find her awkward to talk to, which left her at a bit of a loss on how to begin conversation.

"I uh…" she spat out, wanting to break the silence but having no idea where to move the conversation.

"Pardon?" Zac replied in his deep, sturdy voice. It was oddly misplaced given the fact that it came from a gelatinous being, but it was somewhat comforting.

"Talk to me," she requested blatantly, receiving a slightly quizzical look; but he obliged to the request.

"Where are you from Diana? That armor is beautiful." She blushed a bit, contrasting horrendously with her pale complexion, and muttered out the words "Mount Targon". This sparked a little curiosity. "Mount Targon, like the Solari tribe? I thought they wore bright golds and oranges. Not deep blues or blacks. Or the silver highlights of yours."

"Well, usually, yes. I'm different."

"I can see that much. Do you fight well then?"

"When I'm not famished, yes."

"Ah," Zac replied with a grin. "I tend not to eat. Kind of floats around inside of me." He patted his belly for emphasis. Diana smirked, and pressed for information on him.

"How about you? Where do you come from?"

"Zaun. I was born to be a fighting machine. Zaunite Amorphous Combatant. It's what Zac actually means." Diana looked perplexed.

"Born? You have parents?"

"Yeah. My mom and dad smuggled me out of the lab. Didn't want me to be a killer. Worked out for the best."

"Where are they now?"

"Hiding in Zaun. They're safe. I make sure of it. You? Where are your parents?"

"Um, dead, last I checked." The response was strange to Zac, but he had not meddled in enough human affairs to name the answer as totally out of the ordinary. "So…" she continued, realizing the awkward silence she had brought upon, "what were you doing in these tunnels to start with?" They were rather uncomfortable tunnels in general, as Diana noted when the foul stench of molding water plagued her nose, being continually stirred by her feet sloshing through its cold depths. As they progressed, the water level seemed to be rising. It dawned on her that they may be tracking through sewers.

"These tunnels go right below Zaun, where I live. I was asked a favor," Zac replied.

"A favor? What, in these disgusting sewers?"

"More or less. Ekko wanted to know if anyone was coming. He is expecting company. But he couldn't watch all directions."

"You talk to echoes? I thought that was just me…" Zac chuckled at the remark, but after looking at Diana's facial expression he realize that she was serious and stared somewhat blankly at the path in front of him, pondering how not to embarrass her in his response.

"Ekko is uh, a name. It's a kid in Zaun. He and his friends get into a lot of trouble. But I'm always around to lend a hand." He morphed his arm-like gelatinous appendage into an overly detail and large hand, that he waved into the air for emphasis. It brought a smirk from the woman and jumped over the state of an awkwardness that should have come along with it.

"So are we going back to them?" she asked.

"I'll get you to the surface. You can come with if you'd like. Ekko has a bit of a problem Piltovians. Not that I blame him. Just makes new people hard to introduce."

"Well I'm not a politician so we should be good."

"Right… So have you ever traveled outside of Mount Targon?" Zac prodded.

"No… And as I said, I never intervened in political matters. So my knowledge of Valoran's countries and landscapes is limited."

"Ah, that makes sense," Zac stated as he understood her confusion in terms. He wondered where she planned to go if she was had never left home. "Are you trying to get back?"

"NO!" Zac was a little startled by the yell and turned to make sure she was still in the same conversation. She seemed to be, so his face held confusion, but she did not continue talking.

"I feel ya champ. I wouldn't go back to my first home either." More misplaced silence followed and Zac kept up his lead until they made it to a ladder along the wall. He stretched his arms out and pushed the manhole cover up to squeeze out, before turning around and removing it entirely, allowing a murky beam of light to pour down to Diana. She blinked a few times to adjust before ascending the ladder, and entering the city of Zaun.

The scenery was a lot to take in, since Diana had never seen technology of such an amazing caliber before. She had to turn her head down to avoid the shock of it all, and resorted to following Zac blindly by the sounds of his footsteps.

Zac seemed to know exactly where he was going, pausing only to avoid hitting pedestrians. As he zigzagged about the city, Diana's mind was relatively blank. She wanted to keep her thoughts occupied somehow, but she could not keep things off of the past. Not even familiar with where she was, keeping a mindset on the present proved even more difficult. Instead, she resorted to counting cracks in the ground and stomping on bugs that decided to pass her by.

They reached a large building made mostly out of steel and Zac paused to knock a few times. The eye slot of the door was opened and a boy could be seen on the other side for just a moment before it was latched shut and the door swung open. Zac moved inside quickly and kept Diana very close behind. Merely seconds passed before the kid was up in arms and clearly incredibly angry.

"Who the hell is she!" the boy shouted. Zac raised his hands – a gesture of innocence – and told him to relax. Stubborn, he did not have any intention of letting his guard down. The boy was just under five feet tall, wore his silvery hair in a mohawk, and his dark complexion was well complimented by the sullen colors of his outfit. He held a sword with a turquoise colored blade of light. It was short, but very wide and menacing just the same.

"Zac you can't just bring anyone in here! We don't know who is working for those damn Pilties!"

"Diana's not Piltovian, champ. She's from Mount Targon."

"Mount what?"

"Targon. Near the Institute of War. Cool place, really. Lots of warriors and such," Zac told the boy, seemingly fairly relaxed about the matter.

"Well, she can stay for now. But I have my eye on you." Taking the threat for empty, knowing she was more than capable of beating a child in battle, Diana raised her head from the downward gaze and looked around the room in curiosity. It was still a lot of atmosphere to take in, but it was much less intimidating than an entire city.

The building was somewhat maze-like, having obstacles and objects scattered all about the room and packing every cranny available. Not much of it seemed valuable, being a lot of electronics and hextech mechanisms only half intact.

"So what're we doing today Ekko? I didn't see anyone in the tunnels," Zac asked, curious as to their destination as the boy led them through the collage of randomly assorted odds and ends. Narrowly avoiding a stack of boxes as he turned his head to look at Zac, Ekko gave him a broad smile.

"Pilties are comin' in tonight. Got a little surprise for them."

"C'mon bud, maybe they don't mean any harm," Zac contested.

"Yeah, yeah. Always a do-gooder."

"Do you know what they're headed here for?"

"They want me. Not going let 'em have me tonight, no matter how many of their petty laws they think I've busted. They just need to get the hell out of our city."

"Calm down Ekko," Zac requested, seeing the anger build in the boy. It was at that moment when Diana started to notice that not all of the stuff littering the building was just junk: it housed probably twenty other boys and girls, all wearing patched together darkly shaded clothing, very resemblant of Ekko's garments. None of them seemed to be armed like Ekko was, but they all watched him lead Zac and Diana with a slight look of envy in their eyes. They looked up to the boy; there was no doubt about it. Whether or not they all bought in to his ideals was somewhat irrelevant, seeing as they were prepared to follow him regardless.

"So let's say they're coming for you; what's the plan?" Zac inquired. Ekko stopped at a window somewhere near the back of the building and pointed out of it.

"We slip out the backside here; I don't wanna risk getting anyone else involved here. Across the street is a fairly empty building where one of those Pilties has been patrolling all day. I don't know if he thinks his bright gold and red colors are camouflaged or what, but whatever. We wait for his backup, then get the jump on them!"

"First, let's ask what they want. I mean, what's the risk?" Ekko nodded his head back and forth as he thought about the proposal and then rolled his eyes with a sigh.

"Fine, fine. Let me make sure the Zero-Drive is fully functional. Go ahead and make us a landing pad Zac." With a grin, the large green blob catapulted himself straight out of the open window, to bounce off of the ground a few times and morph into a circular landing pad. Ekko sprinted out the window after him, excited for the free fall adrenaline rush. Diana peeked over the edge, a little skeptical about the plunge, and watched Ekko gleefully bounce off of Zac's body and land safely on the ground. He turned up towards Diana and called out.

"It's safe Diana! I've done it three times already!" Puzzled, but eased, she vaulted the window sill and joined the group. They started walking toward the vacant building Ekko had mentioned previously.

"What do you mean by 'three times already'?" Diana asked.

"I mean that the Zero-Drive is working just as it should," he said with an outward puff of his chest in an obvious gloating matter. Still confused, Diana let the matter slide, not certain that she was going to get an honest answer.

Running through the streets, the man in red stood out like a sore thumb. It was hardly a challenge to duck out of his line of sight on the way to their destination. As Ekko had said, he was shortly thereafter met by two police officers from Piltover, wearing more casual attire in a slightly better attempt to remain undercover.

The three of them got to the back end of the building and slid on inside, waiting in the shadows for movement on the far end.

"Why is it so empty?" Diana asked, taking note of the drastic difference in the environment of the building in comparison to Ekko's hideout.

"It's just an old abandoned building. Nimrod in the red uses it to sleep. He is doing 'private investigation' work... Being blatantly obvious is what he is doing. Not to mention he carries that massive cannon hammer thing with him everywhere he goes, just begging to look like a threat.

I'm not sure what all he has found out, but I suppose we will gather that information here in a little bit. I know they plan to find me; he has done a lot of snooping on my friends and the places I commonly rummage through for technology and supplies."

Diana and Zac both nodded in response and kept an eye out for movement. They were not particularly well hidden, and they were far from melee range, so whatever Ekko's plan was, was far from clear.

Like clockwork, the man and the two female officers walked into the room and listened to his debriefing. He told them, in a loud and clear voice that could be heard from across the room, all about "the boy named Ekko" and his advanced and threatening technology that seemed to make him untouchable. Ekko smirked at the compliment and scoffed at the statements pinning him as a terrorist. His story seemed fairly one sided to Diana, but the evidence of truth in his tale continually rose to the surface.

Their conversation continued as one of the women pressed for information about someone named Jinx, a terrorist who was ravaging Piltover. Ekko shook his head in disbelief, astounded that they were attempting to pin him to Piltover's problems as well.

"Dumb bastards…" he cursed under his breath, refraining from getting frustrated. He had to hold his calm to be certain that he maintain the element of surprise.

Just as Ekko signaled to move forward, the Piltovians froze solid. One of the women pulled out a small pair of binoculars and pointed right at them, in the opposite corner of the room. Had it not been almost three hundred feet away and without interior lighting, it was likely that they would have been spotted sooner. The man with the large weapon knelt down and took aim, his magnificent hextech hammer shuffling parts and transforming into a cannon, crackling with electrical energy. Ekko look to Zac and nodded, while gently shoving Diana backward with an extended arm.

"Ready Zac?" he asked. The blob nodded and expanded his body into a large bubbly shield in front of them. Across the room, the man called out to his own allies.

"Stand back ladies," he crowed narcistically. "This one's going to be shocking."


	11. Chapter 3F: A Stroll in Zaun

The ticks of the clock seemed to creep backwards as Vi landed punch after punch into the sandbag dangling from the cracked cement ceiling. Seeing Jinx get away with so much destruction was beyond aggravating and Vi, of all people, was not one known for handling her anger very well. A few acquaintances knew how to calm her to an extent, but when she was alone, catharsis was the only way she could relieve her anger and frustration.

Caitlyn walked into the room, having traded her cop outfit for more comfortable clothing late in the evening after her shift, and saw a cloud of sand particles hazing the air. The noise alone, which had awoken her from her cot, told her that Vi was not handling the night's events very well. Caitlyn let out a sigh before crossing the room and watching the woman beat upon the bag relentless from up close.

She stood in the cloud of anger for nearly ten minutes before Vi took notice. She seemed somewhat unfazed at first, but the speed and frequency of her fist's collisions began to dwindle down until she was left panting, bent over with her hands resting on her knees to hold her up. Her biceps seared from the exercise, but something about the pain was relieving. Caitlyn put a gentle hand on her shoulder and Vi swatted it away, to continue her panting.

"Pushing me away isn't going to help, Vi."

"Rubbing my shoulder isn't going to help either."

"Most people find comfort in human contact."

"I prefer my only contact with others to be my fist into their flesh."

"Hey now, I know that's not true," Caitlyn scoffed. Vi let out a heavy sigh and sat backwards onto the concrete floor with a thud.

"Why did you come down here? To lecture me about life again? You can't keep me on a damn leash forever."

"No Vi, it had more to do with the fact that your pounding has kept me from sleeping."

"You could sleep elsewhere."

"You could calm down."

"I was trying to dammit! Not everyone's wired like a robot! Flick on and off like a switch… It's not how I work!" Caitlyn took a seat, cross-legged, in front of Vi, seeing that the conversation may take a bit longer than expected.

"No one said that you have to flick a switch; you just can't always try to punch into the off position."

"Says who! I've fought for peace in Piltover for more than half of my life with these fists! Ain't nothing stopped me yet!"

"What about you?" Caitlyn said somewhat rhetorically.

"What? What about me?"

"Yes, what about you? Have you ever been a barrier that you couldn't punch through?" Vi grunted at the question and shied her face away. Caitlyn smirked as she knew she had hit home. "Beating up a punching bag won't help you get through failure. We will get Jinx, but it is going to take some time."

There was a brief pause as Caitlyn waited to see if Vi had anything to say. While she had been assaulting a punching bag since they got back from cleaning up the crime scene, Caitlyn had done some detective work in searching for the origins of Jinx. Ironically, all that she had found out was that the woman's name was not Jinx at all, but that was the name given to her by surviving victims of her terrorist attacks, claiming that seeing her was, in itself, being jinxed.

Beyond that fact, she seemed to come from nowhere. She had no indication of family, and may not have even been born in Piltover at all. Her weapons held many indications of hextech influence, while her clothing and style were much more similar to those of Zaun's citizens.

Seeing as the archives of Piltover had been less than helpful, it made sense to track to Zaun and see if any information could be obtained about the woman's origins there. While Caitlyn needed rest, a midnight walk might do Vi well; and as long as Vi was frustrated, Caitlyn would not be able to sleep.

"Come on," Caitlyn said as she stood up from her seat on the concrete floor. She offered a hand to Vi, who ignored it and stood up on her own. The women walked out of the basement and to the front door, where Caitlyn threw on a coat before heading out. Vi was a step behind, still in the sweat pants and hoodie she had been wearing for her work out.

The evening air was a little brisk, but still pleasant to walk in. Caitlyn was not sure how long a walk to Zaun would take, but she knew that the relaxation it brought would be well worth the while. Her coat pocket housed a radio in the event of an emergency, but it was likely that Jinx was going to place more time in planning her next attack. They seemed to generally be well planned out, but sporadic at the same time; all the more aggravating to predict.

The roads out of Piltover led the two towards the gap between the cities; a short canal whose waters were fairly well polluted from the wastes produced by both Zaun and Piltover. A ferry sat on the docks, and the man operating it was fast asleep inside the ticket booth. His legs were propped up on the window sill and his hat sagged over his face, blocking out the lamp light from the docks.

Vi grinned, seeing the open opportunity to mess with the man, and shuffled forward towards the door. She knocked lightly, clearly in view of the security camera, knowing the guard was too deep in his sleep to be startled by it, and waited a minute. She knocked slightly louder than before, and waited for another moment without response. Then she clenched her fist and smashed the door in with a solid punch to near the nob. The door swung open and crashed to the opposite side, terrifying the ferryman and drawing a short scream.

Vi grinned from ear to ear and behind her, Caitlyn shook her head with her arms crossed, but wasn't able to suppress her grimace. The guard offered them a free ride for the inconvenience, not totally aware that he was dealing with off duty cops, and set to work repairing the door.

* * *

The stench of the blackened lake was not something to put one's mind at ease, but the crisp wind was more than enough to counter act it. The night sky was not quite as littered with hextech lighting as it was when viewed from the streets of Piltover, and the more natural feel was relaxing.

Caitlyn sat on the bow of the ship, her legs dangling off the edge and her head turned in the direction they were sailing. Vi, not quite as fond of the cold as her partner, sat closer to the small cabin where the ferryman kept his focus on cutting through the dark waters in as straight of a direction to Zaun as possible.

Vi stared ahead, somewhat inadvertently at Caitlyn, just wanting to arrive back on land. The outside air had helped to clear her head a little bit, but she still was not totally aware where they were heading. She had not bothered to ask, simply knowing that Caitlyn always managed to have a strange way to clear her head.

Vi knew enough to be aware of the fact that they were on the ferry heading towards Zaun. It had been quite awhile since her last ride across the ocean's outlet, seeing as Zaun was just a hopeless city in her eyes. Piltover had plenty of crime to keep her busy, but had a small enough number criminals to see them all put to justice within a plausible time frame. Having sought to bring down the criminals scattered throughout Piltover since she was only eleven, Vi saw the massive state of corruption in Zaun as far beyond repair.

Deep in thought, Vi hardly noticed that Caitlyn had turned back and seen her continual stare. She cocked her head, waiting for an explanation. Snapping back into reality, unsure how to explain her actions, Vi quickly shifter her focus to the left, into the black sky and ocean looming out endlessly. Caitlyn chuckled and turned back to gaze out in the distance.

Vi looked at Caitlyn in the corner of her eye, seeing if she was still waiting for an answer. She relaxed a little, seeing that Caitlyn had turned away, and took note of her apparel. She was in nothing more than pajama pants and a coat, held close to her skin and outlining her thin figure in the billowing sea breeze. Her long black hair, unrestrained by the tall purple hat she usually wore while on duty, blew behind her in the wind.

It was fairly strange that such an attractive woman was also a brilliant detective, and strong enough to work as a police officer, but perhaps that was what classified her as a prodigy. Not just every person on Runeterra was accepted into the League of Legends to fight as a champion, and Caitlyn was definitely one who shone for that role.

Some peers had credited her acceptance merely to her precision with the high powered hextech rifle she carried with her at all times, but they did not know the half of it. At that point Vi intentionally stared at Caitlyn, realizing that her gun was not resting beside her. Suddenly, the events of the night began to feel incredibly suspicious.

"Cait!" Vi barked. Slightly disturbed by the sudden noise, she turned around to see what the matter was. "Where is your rifle?"

"Picked up on that so soon? Pity."

"What the hell is going on!" Vi shouted as she got to her feet, fists clenched.

"Relax Vi. It's safer to go without weapons. I have someone I would like to visit in Zaun. Someone who may have information about Jinx."

"Someone tied to Jinx, and you think it'd be safer to be unarmed!?"

"Precisely. Besides, you will keep me safe, won't you?"

"Pah," she spat. Letting the tension in her hands loose, and unwilling to stoop down from her anger to laugh at the joke. She sat back down, placing her trust back into Caitlyn, and dozed off until the next morning, when the ferry had arrived in Zaun.

* * *

The sun was just beginning to creep up into the sky as the boat docked. The jolt startled Vi awake, accompanied by a laugh from Caitlyn.

"Do you ever sleep?" Vi asked, clearly annoyed that she was being laughed at.

"Oh you know, Cait naps aren't very long." Vi glared, even less amused by the pun.

"Let's just get moving," she snarled, jumping off of the boat and glancing around at the scenery. The docks of Zaun looked less maintained than those of Piltover, but that could have been simply because of the downfall the city housing it looked to be in.

The two thanked the ferryman and went on their way into Zaun, realizing that the stench of the river seemed to be lingering twice as strong in the city itself.

The streets were barren and the buildings well worn. The whole city was more concerned with developing scientific technologies than it was with keeping buildings safe to work in. The smog of smokestacks billowed high into the sky, and the ground level air held a permanent haze. Every person roaming the street looked shady or suspicious, but it was hardly a concern to them; they were not the person of interest.

About twenty minutes into their roaming, they saw a man on the street dressed in a fairly decorative red and gold outfit. He held a massive weapon, resemblant of a hammer, whirring and buzzing with highly advance hextech ingenuity. They both recognized him as Jayce, a fairly well known scientist from Piltover. Caitlyn called out and waved to the man, who seemed to be deep in thought while waiting for his company to arrive.

Vi scoffed, having never been to fond of the man who seemed to have had most everything handed to him on a silver platter. It was the type of person she could never look up to, knowing just how hard some people worked to make their name known.

"Not worrying about the incognito apparel huh?" Caitlyn teased, taking note of his clothes.

"I was afraid that you wouldn't recognize me," he replied.

"Oh yeah, just like you didn't recognize us. Or that your massive mercury hammer wasn't a dead give away." Jayce took a little embarrassment to Vi's abrasive remark but decided to let it slide. Instead, he signaled them to follow, and shifted into the building he had been waiting outside of.

The inside was fairly empty with parts of the roof caving in and support beams buckling, giving the assumption that it had long since been abandoned.

"Alright, we are relatively out of earshot here," Jayce announced, turning to face his guests. "I have found out that a young engineer has been roaming the streets of Zaun with his own myriad of boys and girls all seeking to eradicate the area of all Piltovian peoples, convinced that we have brought nothing more than a false set of ethics and morality through our attempt to nullify their advancement with our higher count of resources."

"Sounds like a highly educated cause for some children to hold," Caitlyn piped in.

"Or some ignorant pricks listening the propaganda their grandparents preach." Jayce waved Vi's comment aside, intending to continue on his spiel.

"Regardless, he has developed a technology to give him the upper hand. Knowing that he and his group are younger and have less combat potential, they needed to be able to make sure they could gain, and maintain, control when opposed."

"What kind of technology?" Caitlyn asked.

"All that we know is that he calls it the Zero-Drive. With it, he is virtually untouchable. Numerous attempts to steal it or shut the group down have been made, yet no one has been successful so far." The three fell to silence as they contemplated he information.

"Where did he come from? How has he been able to create such a powerful device without anyone knowing?" Jayce just shook his head solemnly at Caitlyn's question.

"No one knows. It just seems to have come from nowhere."

"Just like Jinx…" Vi murmured.

"So that's why you think he may be able to help us."

"Precisely," Jayce said with a nod. He turned to lead the way to the back door when Caitlyn put a hand on his shoulder. "Do you not want to go pay him a visit?"

"He beat us to it," she remarked, pulling out her binoculars. Nearly three hundred feet away, crouched in a dark corner of the massive office space room, a dark skinned boy, a pale woman, and a green blob sat. "There," she said pointing at it. Jayce knelt down to take aim with his Mercury Cannon. He muttered some witty remark as the cannon whirred to life, prepared to shoot down the trespassers.


	12. Chapter 3G: A Sacred Meeting

Midway through the night, Jericho Swain was awoken by the sound of his bird cawing into the room. Getting up from his less than comfortable bed inside of the Institute of War, he changed into his typical battle armor and opened the door to his room.

Trotting down the hallway of the Institute, headed his way, was a summoner in bright purple garb. Typically used to transport to and guide champions on the Fields of Justice, Swain had called the young woman for a separate purpose.

Once she arrived, Jericho handed her a small bag of gold coins and gave a curt nod. She quickly muttered the incantation for a teleportation spell and both Jericho and Beatrice vanished from the Institute.

* * *

Three short streaks of brown hair shone with an oddly bluish hue as the sun refracted around building corners to hit Jericho's head. The man's stone face held all of its secrets within, as it always did, and he gently pet his bird, Beatrice, under her beak. It clung tightly to his right shoulder pad, which had conveniently been warped in battle to form a sort of perch for her.

Noxus was not particularly the prettiest place in Runeterra, and Jericho was fully aware of it. He wanted nothing more than to see it in the glory it once was, all the resources it could ever want, just resting in its disposal.

The architecture of the city-state was the same as it had been some hundred years ago, when it had been the true powerhouse of Runeterra. People were constantly building and expanding businesses through the dirtiest most cutthroat tactics available, much to the tradition of Noxus and their survival of the fittest ideologies. It was painful to see just how slow progress had been with the Institute of War reducing the expansion and seizure of new land down to a choke.

But the Institute was not the only problem. Rules and regulations could always be broken and manipulated; Swain specialized in those aspects. The official issue lied within the people residing in Noxus. The strongest political powers were the best assassins and murderers of the land. There were no just duels when conflict arrived, merely a secret plot to take them out and place another in its spot. It effectively weakened Noxus as a whole, killing off the strongest people and powers by weak and petty organizations. A few names stung in Jericho's mind, along with the fact that he had been forced to resort to such cowardly tactics to begin placing his plans in motion.

All we wanted was to distract the Institute of War long enough to wage war on Demacia. A few fools had stood in his path, so he had to rid of them, one being Marcus Du Couteau. The assassin had trained his daughter and a dog by the name of Talon, both of whom proved more than obnoxious to work around. Regardless, his plans were nearly in motion. He needed Evaine LeBlanc to arrive, who was running a bit late.

Taking a quick glance at the city around the corner, he noticed her slender figure making way towards him. Gowned in a royal purple with an elegant headdress, she flashed him a wide smile and extended a limp hand towards him. He took it gently, kissed the black stone ring around her finger and gave a short bow.

"An unexpected delay?" Jericho inquired due to her unusual untimeliness.

"Yes, very unexpected. But preparations are complete. Shall we?" She inquired with a gesture towards one of the monuments in Noxus.

The two walked towards the towering statue of General Sion, a man of gargantuan size who slain King Jarvan I, nearly a hundred years ago, with his bare hands as twenty soldiers attempted to put him down. The man was an unstoppable force, capable of trouncing armies by himself, and always manned the front line in combat, despite his high ranking. Noxus lacked the moral code of soldiers like Sion, and Swain knew it. He was dedicated to the fight, and earned his rank and title through personal strength, not cowardly and brutal tactics.

"Jericho… Once we have unleashed Sion, it is likely that we will only be able to set one destination in his mind before he charges off. Are you certain you want him to assault the Institute? And not lead your army into Noxus?"

"I appreciate your concern Evaine, however, he will be an undead soldier, and hardly a sacrifice to use him to get rid of Vessaria and the Institute of War, as I wrote in my last letter. Unless… You have doubts in the strength off Noxus in battle against Demacia?" They both laughed loudly at the proposition and went back to focusing on the task at hand.

"Have you got the spell right this time Jericho?"

"Yes. I had to make some tweaks from last times experiment. But this will be correct. I am sure of it."

"Very well," Evaine stated before taking out a bag of magical items, and unfolding Jericho's scroll with the incantation. After a few moments of muttering the spell in the ancient dialect, the magical items floated into the air and vanished, having been consumed. Moments later, the ground began to tremble and the monument to General Sion barely stood a chance against the reviving ogre. Pieces of the structure crumbled to the ground and a body began to claw its way from the dirt and stone.

The charade began to draw attention and Evaine looked at Swain as if asking whether or not her assistance was still required. Jericho gave a quick nod and turned away from her. She disappeared into the air just before people started to arrive at the scene.

As the monstrosity of Sion stood to his full height, clearly butchered and revived on more than one occasion, limbs somewhat mangled and scars beyond visible, the behemoth snorted and growled, awaiting orders. Looking around at his crowd of onlookers, Swain grinned and rose his arms to the sky.

"Noxus! I have revived our sacred relic, General Sion, the one who crushed Demacia's King with his bare hands! Follow me, as we will slay Demacia once again! Our days of cowering behind the walls and regulations of Institute of War are over!" Jericho shifted attention from his crowd and to Sion. "Sion! Your target is Vessaria Kolminye, High Summoner of the Institute of War. Your order: crush." With a shout capable of toppling mountains, the beast stormed off at impossible speeds, directly towards the Institute of War. Jericho swiveled around and panned over his crowd.

"Noxians! Today, we march." A roar of approval resonated outward as people scrambled to get weapons and armor. Jericho marched home, climbed upon his horse, and rode out to Demacia.


	13. Chapter 4A: Myths

Without any scheduled matches, Katarina puttered around for the remainder of her day. A small part of her wanted to go see Garen, but she knew that it had to be nighttime before they could risk meeting up again. It forced the day to be long, and quite frankly, boring.

As she wandered about the hallways, somewhat aimlessly, she saw a figure approaching her at a full sprint. She rolled her eyes and readied her blades, staring down the opponent.

"Katarina!" Talon called out to her.

"Talon?!" she exclaimed, having last known him to be missing completely. When he drew near, he paused to catch his breath.

"We gotta… We gotta get out…"

"Get out? Get out of where Talon?" With a deep breath he mustered up the words he had to tell her.

"The Institute. I went to Swain's room last night, after I met you and Garen. I was prepared to confront him about Marcus, but then heard screams and Malzahar's voice, so I ran. They are teaming up, and plotting something terrible… I left the Institute to gather information, and using the clues…" Talon paused to shake his head, either stuck in disbelief that he was relaying the information, or over what information he was relaying.

"What is it? Do you know where Marcus is, Talon?" His face was grim and the next words merely croaked out of his lungs.

"The Void." Katarina cocked her head to the side, expecting it to be some sort of a joke. Remembering that Talon was hardly a joking type, her eyes grew wide in realization.

"Something terrible is going on here, and we have to get out," Talon repeated.

"Yeah… But, what about Marcus? How can we save him?"

"We'll walk and talk," he said while beckoning her towards the exit.

"Wait!" she called out. He pivoted, but looked fairly annoyed. "I'm not leaving without Garen!" Talon paced on the idea for a moment before realizing he had no point in arguing when they could be on the way to warn him. The two took off down the halls of the Institute, towards the Demacian wing. Many confused looks and concerned glances scanned over them, but no one stood in their way. Garen was found sitting in his room, scrawling something out on a piece of paper. He looked up and smiled at Katarina, then shifted to perplexion at the sight of Talon.

"I don't have time to explain, but we must leave, now!" Somewhat startled by the foreign sight of Katarina worked up, Garen got to his feet immediately and grabbed his sword.

"Is this your doing Talon? Have you stuck your dog-nose somewhere is should not be?" Garen demanded.

"Silence you ogre. This place is about to fall to Swain and Malzahar and we must leave. Now."

"Are you certain? What of Prince Jarvan? Surely he is a much more important asset!"

"He is on the Summoner's Rift… Fighting in a League match. There is no time to interfere," Talon demanded. Garen sucked in as much breath as he could muster, and let out a large sigh.

"Very well. But if you are right, then our first destination is the Summoner's Rift. I cannot let my Prince be stranded."

"He will be with his allies you monstrous buffoon. Why would he need your help?"

"Just because you spent too much of your life as a lapdog to understand the duty of loyalty does NOT mean that I must abandon my philosophies while traveling with you!" The sight of Garen angry was incredibly intimidating, given his large stature and the growl that seemed to emit alongside his words.

"Call me a dog one more time and I'll have you playing fetch with your intestines!" Talon barked back. Before Garen could respond, Katarina elbowed Talon in the gut and threw a knife a Garen's cheek. The men stopped arguing and let their attention fall on Katarina, who was beyond frustrated.

"We are leaving, NOW. We will head north towards the Summoner's Rift, unless you have any other direction with more importance Talon? As far as I see it, we just need to leave." The two mumbled something in response that sounded mostly like a "yes" and they left the Institute at full speed.

* * *

"You still never told me how to save Marcus," Katarina shot at Talon, who had chosen to remain silent for most of the journey out away from the Institute.

"It's complicated…" he muttered.

"What is this, a relationship?" she glared at him.

Garen laughed at the comment and Talon faked a cough to drown him out. "We need someone to send us there. Someone who can travel in and out of the Void freely, such Malzahar. But to get out, we have to have strong protective magics. So unless one of us is secretly a wizard…" He paused to take rhetorical glances at his party for any rejections of his statement. "Then we need to gather magical items that can do so. The best source is most likely the Banshee's Veils, or the legendary sword, named the Maw of Malmortius."

"How do you know these actually items exist? The last I was aware, these are nothing more than folk tales," Garen interjected. Talon replied not with a witty remark, but by pulling a small trinket, tied to a string around his neck, out from his shirt.

"The Banshee's Veil," he stated.

"If you have one, then why do we need more?" Katarina asked.

"It's only good for one person. And we need at least three to guarantee our escape. If Marcus has remained alive, it is likely he has one or two already. There are supposedly seven of them scattered throughout Runeterra. I have one, which means there should be four or five more out there." Garen seemed skeptical about the situation.

"Where did you get that one? Where are the others supposed to be?"

"Queen Ashe gave me this herself a long time ago. According to ancient folk lore, there is one for every 'god' and thus, one in every major section of Runeterra. The island continent of Ionia, the Blue Flame Isles or Bilgewater, north Valoran in Freljord, south Valoran in Shurima, East Valoran in Noxus, and West Valoran in Demacia."

"That's only six… What about the Shadow Isles?" Katarina questioned.

"It's never been confirmed that they house one. There is a 'god' watching over that region, but the existence of a Veil is unknown."

"You continue to mention gods. Perhaps this is a faith I am unaware of?" Garen inquired.

"It's more oriented to older times where the tales originated. There are seven gods in total; god of peace, often called Ionia, god of desire, god of revenge, god of life, who many think takes a materialized for in Freljord's Anivia, god of balance, god of war, depicted in ancient deceased civilizations as a demonic angel-like character named Aatrox, and lastly, the god of death, Kindred, who has had some witnesses of seeing their lamb and wolf resemblant figures shortly before massive tragedies and deaths."

"Quite the tall tale… why should there be certainty amongst its words?"

"Listen you thick skulled oaf –"

"Talon!" Katarina barked before turning to Garen with an answer. "The tale itself isn't really necessary, just the fact that there may be basis to the Banshee's Veils which can get us to rescue my dad. Talon, is there any way to depict one from another? You got yours from Ashe, so we can guess that it's the one from Anivia, in Freljord."

"Not really. They are all a different color but there isn't a surefire way to tell which one came from where. We can narrow them down and do guesswork. It's likely that Marcus has Noxus' and probably one other. Our best bets are the island ones or the southeastern section of Valoran… The exact OPPOSITE of where we are head –" Talon was cut off by a sharp elbow to the side from Katarina and the three of them continued to march across Runeterra towards the Summoner's Rift.


	14. Chapter 4B: The Fall

"High summoner Vessaria," spoke a low growly voice.

"I am assuming that your presence here is far from a good thing, Nasus," she said with a coy smile.

"This is no time to smile, Vessaria. My emperor has risen from the sands of the forgotten. He came to protect a young warrior, threatened by the release of Xerath and my brother, Renekton, freed from their tomb by a myriad of fools searching for treasures."

"Why must you always speak in poems…"

"Silence!" Nasus barked, irritated at her ignorance.

"Don't you forget who is in charge of this League!" she shot back. Nasus returned a piercing glare.

"My emperor is not well. Whatever has taken place seems have set him on a course to reconquer his lost lands. I would prepare the the Institute for battle."

"Here? With what army? The Shuriman Empire is, and has been, dead and buried for eons."

"They have found an ally within a common enemy."

"What? The League has no enemies, especially not one with an army. I am tired of your riddles, dog." Vessaria's tone had shifted from one of jesting to one of frustration, quite quickly.

"You have answered my 'riddle' within your own words. But you can suffer for your own ignorance. My purpose is not to warn of the attack, but to inform that you do not have my help. I cannot fight my own empire."

"Hah! You think I'll let you walk without consequence – " her words were cut off by a sudden buzzing of whirling insects, decrepit and foul. Her body felt the weakness of rapid aging and she fell to her knees, gasping for breath.

"No one will remain to punish me. You will fall to this empire. I am not threatening you, I am telling you of your place. Now wither and rot… Dog." Nasus turned and left the chamber, dissipating the spell he had placed on the High Summoner. In any normal situation she would have immediately blasted the Champion into oblivion for the action, but she was certain there was reason to be afraid.

Gathering herself, she rushed out to make an announcement to the Champions and tell them to prep for battle. After telling her messengers to start gathering residents into the courtyard, an earth trembling force smashed through one of the Institute's walls, followed by a war cry meant to rattle bones. Following the source of the noise, Vessaria gazed upon a gargantuan being, towering over any normal human by nearly five feet, muscles throbbing and flesh reattached, shreds of ancient Noxian armor still clinging on in random places, and forged steel replacing body parts where originals had been long lost to the tides of war.

"General Sion…" she stammered.

"BRING ME VESSARIA!" the hulk shouted as he stomped through waves of Summoners and Champions like picket fences in the way of a truck. The High Summoner leapt into action, throwing a torrent of power magics and spells at the beast, clearly doing little more than angering it. Frustrated, she waved for some Summoners to assist her, and heard nothing more than the piercing sounds and cries of agony. Turning, she saw an army of undead Shuriman soldiers plowing through her back up, winning with sheer numbers alone. Behind the pack she saw the ones leading the assault: Azir and Yorick Mori, a gravedigger from the Shadow Isles, capable of raising the dead. Just behind him was Hecarim, a spectral centaur thirsty for blood. His voice boomed out across the Institute, strong enough to make a soul quiver.

"You plan to let Thresh into the League… To give him the power he needs to overtake MY Isles? You are mistaken Vessaria. NO ONE takes the Shadow Isles away from ME!" Confused, she took a step forward to reply but forgot about the behemoth behind her. A solid strike of his axe sent her tumbling across the room, battered and bloody.

"THIS weakling is Vessaria? I will break her bones!" Sion stomped over to continue his assault. With a flick of her wrist, ethereal chains sprung from the floor to anchor Sion down, and he toppled over, crushing half a dozen soldiers in his wake. From above, a flurry of light blasts rained down, picking off enemies and containing the fight.

"Let me at 'em!" A man growled from the other side of a doorway. A pair of corpses were flung into the room, held together by a torch through their skulls.

"Jax…" Vessaria sighed with relief.

"C'mon! Who wants some!" Waves of troops fell helplessly to Jax's hands as he trampled the onslaught single handedly, using furniture, ornaments, and undead limbs as improvised weapons. Unfortunately for Vessaria, Jax was not Sion's target, and hardly sufficed as a distraction. Hecarim had ran off to other wings of the Institute, seeking out the easier kills of Champions and Summoners unaware of the situation.

Sion clambered to his feet, slamming his oversized axe into the concrete floor, shaking the foundation of the building and freeing chandeliers and torches from their homes in the ceiling and walls. As decorations crashed to the floor, letting flames lick the ankles of the undead soldiers and the Champions on ground floor, Vessaria was hit with the sudden understanding that the Institute of War and League of Legends was being destroyed around her.

She threw a plethora of spells at Sion, relentlessly attempting to fell the beast, hardly pausing to catch her breath as anger erupted from her. She teleported short distances all around the room as threats drew close enough to strike her. From the back line of the assault, Xerath was locked in a long range war with Ezreal and Luxanna, and Azir grew tired of watching his soldiers fall so rapidly.

"Renekton! Cut these ignorant souls down!"

"With PLEASURE!" the crocodile-like being shouted during his lunge into the heart of the battle. As his bladed weapon sliced enemies and foes alike, Vessaria knew she was not able to handle two enemies at once. Delaying the inevitable, she quickly executed a series of teleportations that did nothing more for her than dodge. She looked to see Jax finishing up a group of soldiers and prayed he'd move with haste.

Glancing around the room, everything shifting strangely in the haze of battle and fire, Vessaria saw a lamb-like creature frolicking through the meadow of soldiers, carrying a bow and striking down different beings left and right. It seemed odd that a third party would be at play, but she realized that the arrows landed in their targets simultaneously with other weapons and fatal blows. She heard a feint, monotone, and eerie female voice ring through the air, followed by a much more harsh and growly masculine voice, completing the other's sentence. A black wispy figure with a wolf's head darted around the room, but always returned to the lamb.

"A quick death for that one," Lamb said.  
"And a LONG one for THIS one!" Wolf exclaimed.

"Oh, this one seems lost."  
"I'll take it!"

"I'm needed for the next one."  
"The one from above?"

"No wolf, that's the killer."  
"I see. I'll get him later." A shrill chuckle followed and Vessaria snapped back into reality. Sion's axe was moments from her skull and she shifted to avoid the slaughter, but felt the sharp pain of a blade cut through her side. Falling to the floor – Renekton's blade hovering above, soaked in her own blood – she saw Wolf approach her, rushing through with a strange and torturous feeling, like part of her was being dragged out slowly, but steadily.

From above, Nasus leapt down with his siphoning weapon and struck Renekton on the back of the neck like a butcher slaughtering a hog. Lamb's arrow landed in his hide within the same moment, and his scaly body fell limb to the ground, his blood pooling in with Vessaria's.

"How do we kill the undead, Wolf?"  
"They are dead already! Let Bard handle them!"

"I forget about Bard. He is so silly."  
"He cannot speak, but he brings balance."

"Oh Wolf, you are wise when you try."  
"But not as wise as those who choose you!"

"A quick death is not always the best death."  
"My FANGS say otherwise, Lamb!"

Actually seeing the Lamb and the Wolf was bizarre to Vessaria; together they are called Kindred, and thought only to be creatures of fairytales and legends. Some called them a god, some referred to them as demons or death itself. But what perplexed her the most was how no other gods seemed to be present. Death usually comes along with war, especially in this scenario. If the god of war – as told by myths – was not here, then she wondered where he would be.

Pain diverted her thoughts and blurred her vision, bringing reality back into effect. Nasus seemed to have disappeared from the scene, likely only having come back to best Renekton. Jax diverted his attention to Sion, now being the biggest unattended to threat, and he jumped back and forth about the hulk and laughed every time his axe was buried into a wall or inanimate object. He started to get creative, allowing Sion to smash down walls to trample the Shuriman forces with the debris it caused. Noticing that the brute had no loyalty, Azir directed his troops to begin assaulting him. As the soldiers moved away from the Champions, Hecarim brought his spectral knights back in from chasing down the random people fleeing the scene, and began to fill in where the sandy soldiers had left off.

Taking advantage of the situation, Jax ordered Ezreal and Lux to start carving a path for survivors to escape through. Using the transition in reinforcements as a distraction, most of the Champions and Summoners who had still been fighting, fled through the path and ran from the Institute.

"Jaaax!" Ezreal called out to the cloaked man, still fighting an army alone. Behind him, Sion was starting to fall under the sheer numbers he now faced.

"You cannot best me!" he shouted to the sky. "If I die, it will be DROWNING in your BLOOD!"

Vessaria's vision faded out within a few blinks, each time the picture grew blacker. She scanned for the Lamb and Wolf duo, Kindred, but did not see them anywhere. Before her last breath escaped her lungs, she saw Ezreal screaming for Jax as Lux dragged him away from the scene. Sion dropped his axe to the floor and began punching everything in sight using his boulder sized fists, and Jax was swarmed by an onslaught of undead Shuriman soldiers and Hecarim's spectral calvary.

"Reginald…" she huffed out. "I always knew you'd take the League back from me… But I thought I'd get closer than this…"


	15. Chapter 4C: A Magical Journey

Jayce launched a shock blast at Zac, Diana, and Ekko which traveled at tremendous speeds; coursing through the air as electricity crackled off of its surface and sent the entire room into disarray. Zac flung himself forward to absorb the blast for his allies, being the most well-suited to receive such a blow, and let his gelatinous body absorb the impact. Jayce hardly hesitated before he turned his lighting cannon Diana's direction and let loose another shot. Unequipped and too slow to dodge the projectile, she stood in wait.

The shot rang out and Diana shut her eyes tight, clenching and bracing for an impact that did not come. She saw blackness and heard a soft sound of wind chimes echoing in the distance. There was an odd serenity to it as she listened intently, letting the blackness before her be all that she saw. Finally, she opened her eyes to what was around her.

Seconds later, Diana flinched backwards. The shock blast Jayce had fired was suspended in mid air, glowing and sparkling with a light golden color. Looking around she saw everyone within the vicinity frozen in the same strange stasis. She moved up to them, and inspected the phenomena, but did not learn anything new about it. Out in the distance, a lamb-like figured moved with grace. She paused and looked at Diana, quickly drawing her bow.

"Not here!" A low gravelly voice directed. The sound came from a black wispy creature with a wolf's head. The lamb lowered her bow and nodded.

"Yes, we are needed elsewhere, aren't we?"  
"Bard has this under control!" the wolf pointed out. Up in the sky, a red and gold figure floated, an eerie mask with three holes mounted on its face, showing no emotion whatsoever. It was chubby and balloon-like, with a large cone shaped hat protruding from the back of its head. With a sharp chiming ring, it took off into the sky, clearly having much more important matters to attend to. Back on the ground, the other two trounced off at an amazing pace, quickly vanishing from sight.

With a sigh – confused as to what was going on – Diana turned to leave, when another explosion of light erupted outward. She took a knee and let the rush of wind and colors pass her by.

She waited patiently as she kneeled, cold and lonely, just as she had been most of her childhood. She was not particularly fond of being alone, but she was all too familiar with it. She did not bode well in social gatherings, despite a lust to be around people. She had always been one to get lost in the thoughts inside her head, because it seemed no one wanted to listen. Again, her thoughts began to trail back to her childhood, her path and decisions in life after losing her family, and they all funneled strangely down until they ended up at this moment.

"Is this the war I'm supposed to be fighting? The one I am supposed to die in?" she thought. She shook her head firmly, letting the light breeze trail around her hair. She knew the answer in her heart; that she was in the wrong place, and that somewhere else needed her more.

"Was I too late? Should I have left sooner?" she thought to herself. A slow tear trickled down her face as the little girl inside felt once again plagued by disappointment and failure. However, no sharp pain stabbed at her side, or engulfed her being, so she opened her eyes once more to see what the world held in store.

Her blurry vision could have been the issue, but it did not seem like the golden stasis was any longer in effect. In fact, she could not see any of her friends at all. A quick wrist, rubbed across the top of her cheek, brought the scene to life and nothing more than an empty juice pouch flickered in the wind past her field of view. Where Zac had been, she saw a small green blob clinging to the ground. It jiggled as if terrified as she slowly walked up to it.

"There there," she said as she bent down to pick it up. She hardly got it an inch off of the ground before its strange texture made her skin crawl and she dropped it. Embarrassed, she quickly snatched it back up, only to the sheer terror of the blob she was attempting to help. Not knowing how to properly sooth the creature, she held it close to her chest and rubbed the top of it with her knuckle – somewhat more forcefully than soothing – scanning the area around her.

The lights of Ekko's Zero-Drive flickered out of the corner of her eye, and something else reflected off in the distance. She walked over to the strange device, and it seemed to be whirling a multitude of colors, clearly damaged in some way. She put it in her arm next to the blob of Zac, and it quickly latched on and absorbed the object, adding it to its mass. She grinned at the creature and finally moved to collect one more item from the room.

She picked up a badge, marked with the word "sheriff" across the front, and the word Piltover embroidered across the top. She muttered the word to herself and remembered it to be a city, not too far from Zaun.

Perhaps it was a clue, like destiny. She was uncertain whether or not heading towards Piltover was the correct path, but seeing as she was clearly far from the right one already, it had to be a better option.

She held her chin high and the blob of Zac close as she walked in a singular direction in hopes of leaving the city. It was dark and gross, and not a soul seemed to exist on the streets itself.

She continued her journey in silence, listening to nothing more than the soft crunch of gravel under her shoes. She got to a large body of water, just outside of Zaun, and could see large towers scraping into the skyline on the other side.

"That must be Piltover, Zac," she said to the blob. It seemed to wiggle gleefully, and Diana smiled before moving onward. She kept close to the edge of the water as she walked around it; a few ferries cut straight across, but without money it was not an option for her. Besides, she kind of enjoyed watching the ground transition from a mucky polluted color to one of greens and fragrances.

As she neared Piltover, she took in a deep breath of the fresh air and gazed out over the water. It seemed to stretch on forever from her current angle, and the sun's glow was just beginning to peak out over the water's surface to create rippling crests of red, pink, and orange.

The serenity of it was a nice change of pace from the sewers she had been crawling through or the musty city of Zaun. She lifted Zac up and put him on her head, where he stretched his small body out as tall as it could reach to get a clear view of the rising sun. Unfortunately, things did not remain peaceful for all too long. As she neared Piltover, loud crashes and bangs were audible through the tree line surrounding the city. Unsure what to make of it, Diana put Zac back into her arms, and rushed towards the city.

_Author's Note: Hey everyone! Thanks a million to everyone still clinging on to an update! My computer crashed and I lost most of my files, which included my progress notes and outlines for this story, so I had to take the time to bunker down and redo it all, along with writing this chapter. However, that does mean I now have room to add in new champions, such as Jhin and Aurelion Sol. I hope everyone is enjoying it so far, and I hope to get a few more chapters posted here pretty soon, so be on the lookout! And as always, please follow, fav, and leave any comments or pm me at any time, I love to hear from my fanbase!_


	16. Chapter 4D: Aatrox

A dull wet wind billowed about the air, carrying the stench of blood in its wake. A slow grin curled over the face of Aatrox, the god of war, as his excitement escaped him. It had been so long since he had been given the chance to kill. He understood that a balance must be kept, but a thirst had grown and he desired for war: he could always count on the Noxians when he needed blood to fill the well.

He began to trudge through the humid plains branching the distance between Noxus and Demacia, dirt crunching beneath his feet as his toes sank into the cracking ground. He did not seek for the first blood of battle, or to be the center of attention to a superior, or to impress his allies and be feared by his foes; merely the glory in victory, and chance to wield his weapon once again.

He extended his arm outward as he walked, his strange demonic stature hardly swayed from the offset balance. His march seemed as if momentum did not apply to his step, and give it an almost creepy feel to watch. The sword in his extended hand glowed a faint red, dying in its thirst to be sated. Not a soul could be seen out and around, but he knew a war was being raged not too far away in Demacia. Wispy tendrils of dark purple coiled up the length of his sword, its razor sharp edges jagged like a shark's mouth, for ripping and cutting through his foes.

Aatrox's form was skeletal with large wings protruding from his back, laced in blood red and falling to tattered banners as you traced their outlines. His whole body was a swirl of blacks and reds, fusing to chunks of metallic armor scattered around in various places.

Satisfied with the sheen of his edge, he lowered it to his side and continued onward to Demacia, slowly picking up the pace until he gave a light skip and began to glide through the air with his demonic wings. If it wasn't for the eminent destruction he was about to bring, then a light grace would linger in the air about him.

* * *

When Aatrox arrived at Demacia, he glided up the side of a nearby building and used a perch to survey the battlefield below him. He scanned around, not waiting for a perfect time to strike, but simply soaking in the bloodbath that was unfolding. In the lead of the pack, Grand General Swain slaughtered Demacians where they stood, not caring for who they were or whether or not they posed a threat. His goal was to march forward to the capital and seize the throne. With most of the Demacian champions defending the League itself from his resurrected General Sion, there was hardly any opposition.

He laughed and crowed as he mowed through his enemy, letting out the bloodthirsty side that had been locked up behind politics and figureheads for too long: some people seem to forget that he did at one time work his way up through the ranks of the Noxian military. Aatrox grew envious, knowing that he too longed to spill blood, and hopped down from his pedestal to join the fray. A fire erupted in his eyes as his sword plunged deep into the first Demacian stupid enough to approach him, and the taste of war savored his tongue; it had begun.

Within minutes a clear path had been cut to the capital, within an hour the castle was breached and everyone inside slaughtered, and before night the news of Noxus' victory had spread. However, the victory there was not the most troubling thing to most. The fall of the Institute of War was truly what left people in shambles. Without them to dictate order, Noxus began to enslave the remainder of the Noxian people, and word was that the same began to happen within the Institute of War to any champions who chose to surrender instead of die to flooding army of Shuriman soldiers and undead ghouls.

The people of Runeterra were beginning to panic as chaos was quickly erupting, but to Aatrox, one of the seven gods balancing the power coursing through world, he was really enjoying the change of pace from the dull and ongoing peace.


	17. Chapter 4E: Darkening Shadows

A glimmer of light pushed through the dead branches and shone on the gray moss scattering the ground of the Shadow Isles. Thresh's green glow illuminated the path around him and his hooked chain dragged a line behind. His grin was plastered over his face so broadly that it almost did not fit on the flaming skull that made it up. Small creatures scuttled away as his footsteps seared through the dying grass beneath his feet. The Shadow Isles were a land of forgotten souls, but Thresh planned to claim it for his own that day.

Altars sat on opposite ends of the Isles and all that Thresh had to do was put his spectral lantern atop them. As people and beings of power died throughout the land of Runeterra, their bodies and souls make their way to the Shadow Isles, to be buried properly and allowed to pass to the afterlife. Typically, this was the job of Yorick Mori. But today he was away. He rode out with Hecarim in a reckless endeavor to overthrow the Institute of War, after hearing word that they intended to take Thresh into their ranks. Unfortunately for them, the more champions that were slaughtered today, the more souls were available for Thresh to absorb.

With the lantern chained to his other hand, he had the ability to soak in the souls of the dead before they had the chance to find their way to the afterlife. And with more vessels fueling the lantern, the more powerful Thresh became. The altars were a way for him to abuse this mechanic, flooding himself full of souls as the greatest heroes fell under the strength of the undead army assaulting the Institute.

His march came to a small clearing and he saw the altar that he was looking for. A magical purple haze floated around in a puddle-like nature amidst the stone formations outlining it.

"Any minute now…" He cackled to himself, waiting for his "allies" to do the dirty work on the mainland.

"HALT!" Thresh heard a feminine voice bellow out. His spectral eyes rolled in their sockets as he turned to face the one calling to him.

"Ahhh, Kalista. Why bestow such a pleasure upon me today?"

"I know why you are here," she scowled. Thresh's grin fell and he gripped his hook tight.

"Oh? Please. Humor me." She did not take the bait.

"You are stalling for time." Her weapon was lifted and pointing at Thresh's head.

"Oh, the Black Spear of Vengeance," he crowed. "Has someone made a pact against me? Are you even allowed to act without one?" Kalista was done talking and hurled herself through the air at him, narrowly missing his cloaked torso.

"Such a rage… Don't we remember what happened last time you tried to protect the Shadow Isles?" he taunted as another spear thrust missed being lethal by inches.

"Stay your tongue," she barked, twirling through the air in a glistening light show of essence and shadows gleaming from her spear. Thresh threw his hook towards her and it clashed off of her weapon, stopping her momentum sharp. She fell to the ground but leapt back to action quickly.

He decided to leave the mockery behind for a moment to make sure he had the upper hand. With a short wind up, he latched his weapon onto a nearby rotten tree branch. As Kalista made her next attempt to plunge through his chest, he yanked the chain connected to his hook and took the branch with it. He ducked as the splintered wood flew over his head and smashed into Kalista. She tumbled over him and Thresh grinned at his small victory. He waltzed towards her, spinning his hook in circles in preparation to finish his foe.

"Well I hadn't expected to gain the soul of one revered as a god today, but I suppose I can't complain." He let out a cackle and looked down to execute her, but was met with a spear through the skull as it punched past the wood that had been covering her. In a yell of agony he tumbled back and fell just beside the altar. He yanked the weapon from him and stared at the being now approaching him for the kill.

Her blue skin was blurring into the dull metals if her tattered armor and the long ponytail-like decoration strewn from her helmet swayed back and forth in a mesmerizing fashion. He figured the battle was lost until a beautifully familiar sound began to echo out like a symphony in his ears.

"Your words are sharper than your weapon Thresh. Perhaps a second death serves your pitiful existence right." Letting out a hollowed laugh, Thresh used the last of his energy to roll to the side of the approaching spear and toss his lantern onto the altar. The sweet sound of a screaming soul coursed through the air only momentarily before it found itself bound by the shackles of the lantern. Absorbing its power, Thresh let out a breath and stood back up. Kalista quickly became aware of what had happened, and diverted her attention to the altar.

"Not… so… fast… darling…" Thresh's crow accompanied a soaring hook and wrapped its way around her body, snaring her like a dog on a leash. Her spear was still embedded in the altar after having missed her throw, and she did not have many options left. She watched as Thresh waited for more souls to appear and sway the tide of the fight. Gradually, more and more screams resonated out across the Shadow Isles as the massacre at the Institute of War took place. With each passing champion, summoner, and soldier, Thresh felt their abandoned spirits fuel his energy like never before. Souls always had a recursive effect on Thresh, but it could be stronger or weaker, depending on the one to whom it belonged. In this case, the souls were of the strongest warriors throughout Runeterra, conveniently all huddled in one place to be killed.

Kalista watched in terror as the monster before her formed, taking on a strength unknown to most beings. She was lost on options, having come here out of desperation in hopes of killing Thresh off before his plan could be executed.

"How about it?" he mocked as his body reformed itself about the new found energy. "An eternity bound to the Shadow Isles in my chains? Oh don't pout now, it could be worse. I could be keeping you company while you stay." He laughed his horrid cry and with a flick of his wrist, the chain bindings around her sank deep into the ground, shackling her in place. He snapped and summoned a new chain hook out of the spectral energy within his lantern, and turned to glide off to the other altar, seeing how many souls floated about, lost and without a purpose.

Kalista felt so weak she wanted to fall to her knees, but the bindings stopped it. She knew no one would be there to save her, and as Thresh grew stronger, her torment grew worse. He was wise not to attempt to kill her, for it would have been worse off than leaving her alive. But if she had the opportunity to get free from her bindings, she would be certain Thresh paid for his actions.

Her black spear remained imbedded to the wall of the altar. The mystic weapon was imbued with a relic – unbeknownst to most – that had the power to fell most beings in a magic-nullifying aura; but it was out of her reach. She used it commonly to accept sacrifices to those who needed to enact vengeance, but now, all Kalista could think about was making a pact herself to finish off Thresh.

With a heavy sigh, she sank her head to her chest, and waited for the day she was saved; should it come at all.


	18. Chapter 4F: Khada Jhin

A tall spindly man by the name of Khada Jhin sat at a desk just barely large enough to give him adequately leg room. His fingers drummed its surface holding a perfect tempo as he quietly whispered the count of a four set to himself. He looked over his plans, his sketches, his diagrams, his visions, over and over again, wanting nothing more than the stage to be set perfectly for his next victims.

He typically murdered under orders from the society of secretive individuals that casually slipped him out of prison under their contract, but for the time being, Khada planned to take advantage of the lack of a target to enact vengeance upon the people who got him locked away in the first place. A ninja for Ionia by the name of Shen, and a former ally of Shen's named Zed. Shen's father was the one ultimately responsible for his capture, but at some point after his imprisonment, Zed murdered the man and betrayed his family to leave home. The thought of his capture being assassinated in a manner that probably took little planning and left the corpse lying in an ugly mess to rot, irked Khada. Not only was the man well known for his ability to slip in and out, leaving death in his wake, but he took pride in his kills. Much like a hunter mounting a head on his wall, Khada displayed the bodies of his victims in places where anyone could see the beauty of what he had done.

Some would call his work horrific or disgusting, but Khada's mind worked in a different manner. To him, these were basically compliments. The more he could awe his audience, the better. The more his viewers could look at what he has done and swell up with hatred, the better. The more his work could move an individual to feelings that they had never experienced before, the better. The more people that could place him on a death list, the better. These things motivated him, but he had no plan of stripping the world of his art. And in a place as naturally beautiful as Ionia, he had a perfect canvas to experiment and play upon.

His current living quarters was littered with his plans to kill Shen and Zed. It had to be perfect. It had to be the best. It had to be a new standard for not only himself, but for his audience. It had to be a piece that he would create, or die trying. As his brain was scattered throughout the croppings of plans and words around his room, he could not help but wish it were a bit less risky to pull two rivals together. The biggest fear he had was that one of them would actually best the other before Khada got his opportunity.

He looked at his gun, Whisper, almost out of instinct, and let his gloved finger trace gently up its barrel, not even picking up a spec of dust off of its surface; he would never allow his most prized possession to do something as foul as collect dust. He had killed to many people with it to allow it all to go to waste by needing to replace the weapon due to lack of proper care. It was practically a part of himself. No, it _was_ a part of himself.

Another piece of paper managed to get crumpled and tossed aside. Frustration welled up inside and his fist crashed onto the desk.

"DAMMIT why can't I make this WORK?!" he shouted to no one in particular as his fingers began to clench against the surface of the desk. "Nonono Jhin," he continued. "Keep your head. Frustration makes haste, and haste makes impurities. There is no time for impurities today. Nonono, not today." A heavy sigh brought his temper back down to manageable levels, and he let his fingers slide to a new pencil and paper.

"I just need to pull these two birds into the same place," he said, reverting back to first person. "But there is only two ways to pull enemies to the same place again. A common enemy, or a new found hatred in one or the other…" His thoughts trailed off as he furiously scrawled plan after plan, concept after concept, idea after idea, and outline after outline. It had to be perfect. And he planned to make it that way.


	19. Chapter 4G: Cat got your Tongue

As the dull grey sky shifted to a slightly less dull shade, Cat awoke and stretched her arms out wide, intentionally attempting to collide with her new found friend. She paused dead still when she did not feel him nearby, and blinked twice before sharply jutting her head sideways. G was gone.

Her posture immediately slumped and she sulked off back into the Void, knowing that he could not have been dumb enough to attempt to swim away from Rip. Once she had regained her composure upon the semi-solid ground inside the purple-hued hell, she let her adjusting eyes scan the perimeter. As G had mentioned, it was impossible to stray too far away for the air would grow thin, and eventually it would make breathing difficult. So she did her best to try to find him; even though the area she could look in was quite massive.

A slow casual walk suited her mood best and she let her thin legs swing out in a pointlessly drastic marching manner. As she progressed she eventually saw the faint blue outline G emitted against the purple back drop. She let her silly march swap into a sprint, dedicated to make the man more interested in keeping her company.

A few minutes into her sprint, she looked up to see the blue glow become blocked out by a massive purple being. Nothing was visible from her current position other than a back lined with pentagonal spikes all of the way down to its tail, which drooped past the two legs it stood on. Blotches of pink and red littered its skin, and a horrid shrieking that could be compared to no animal rang out into the blackness.

Cat was beginning to panic as she ran towards G. She had not given him any sort of debriefing on how to avoid the monsters lurking about down here. She wanted to call out and attempt to give him instructions, but yelling in the Void typically just lured in more predators.

The cry of the beast resonated in her ears, forcing her muscles to lock momentarily. She shook the chilling feeling off and pushed forward towards the man in danger.

Her vision could not focus on the beast in front of her with her head bobbing in the momentum of her sprint, but things did not look to be going very well. A blur of the purple behemoth twirled about and roared, tail flailing and spikes slashing through the air. Cat froze as she got close, realizing she really did not have an action plan upon arrival. Another muscle tensing scream rang out, and she closed her eyes, waiting for the feeling to fade. Once opened, all they saw was a large mass of void monster, oozing a thick slimy liquid all over the floor.

"G?!" she called out, a slight ping of panic in her voice. She did not want to spend another year wandering throughout the void alone simply because she could not look out for the person she did find.

She fell to her knees and slumped back to her bottom, rotating her legs up and pulling them in close to bury her head in. She was so heartbroken she wanted to cry. Even if G was a fairly rough and stingy man, her sadness came mostly from the sinking feeling of being alone again.

The silence was so overwhelming that she nearly jumped from her skin when a cold touch wrapped around her shoulder. She was hoisted upwards and looked G straight in the face, his clothes battered and the vile purple liquid clinging to him in random splotches around his body.

Her face lit up and her arms flung into the air dramatically as he placed a finger to her lips indicating silence. Snapping from her excitement and back to reality, the two traveled off quickly, staying light on their feet. Half a million questions resonated in her head but she kept them inside until they could be certain that they were safe.

"Where are we going now?" she finally asked, afraid of exploding with all of the thoughts running through her mind. G kept his stony face silent for another few minutes.

"Why did you come?" he asked.

"What? Why wouldn't I?!" she asked.

"You don't even know me. You have no reason to be risking your life chasing after me."

"What?" she yelled back. "Who the hell are you to tell me that I have no reason for my actions?" she stomped her foot and pouted at the man, clearly upset by the remark. He showed no signs of remorse.

"I have had others try and look after me before. Most end up dead. I can handle myself." He swished his hood up over his face to hide it from Cat and pushed forward with quick strides. She rolled her eyes at him and picked up her pace.

"Oookay Mr. Edgy. Just where do you plan to handle yourself at huh? You know as well as I do that there is a limit to how far we can wander here." He maintained his silence. She jumped up and threw his hood off of his head and smiled to herself. Not expecting the action, he scrambled to throw it back over his messy brown hair. A few paces later she repeated the action and he twirled around where he stood to glare at her. She shyly rubbed her shoulder and bit the inside of her cheek. "Whaaat?" she asked ignorantly.

"This. This is why I named you Cat."

"See I think it's a cute name!" she insisted.

"I like to stab cats," he replied.

"Oh my goodness, do you just brush your teeth with edge at night?"He rolled his eyes and let out a sigh.

"Just… please. Be silent for awhile."

"Why do you always want things quiet? Don't you know how to be social at ALL?"

"No. The silence is comforting."

"Oh my freaking…" she started but finished by shaking her head. "Okay why don't you tell me something about yourself?"

"No."

"Fine then, I'll start! Do you believe that I used to be a criminal?" he gave no acknowledgement of her words.

"Why is your hair blue" he asked in a manner so flat it hardly seemed like a question.

"That has literally nothing to do with what I just said!" she retorted. Being met with silence, she groaned and decided to answer him.

"It was part of my identity from when I lived in Runeterra. But that feels like it was so long ago…" she trailed off for a second before shaking her head. "How about you? What did you do?"

"Kill," he replied.

"… Okay are you done with this darkness kick? Will you actually reply to me at all?" The man paused in his tracks again, seemingly walking to nowhere in particular anyways, and sat down on a log-like Void structure at his feet. He ran his fingers through his hair and let out a deep sigh.

"Was that… emotion? Did I sense that?" she pried.

"I am not lying, Cat. I killed. I killed and killed and killed. ALL I have done with my life, is kill." A silence lingered as Cat sat on the edge of her seat, waiting to see if this brief interruption of his persona would carry onward.

"I don't… I don't know what to do. I don't know how to get out of here. I don't know what is going on in Runeterra right now. I don't even know if I can get out of here."

"Hey… Hey…" Cat let her shoulders fall and she slid over to the log G was sitting on. "Don't be thinking like that, okay? We can't know for sure… but you see… you see why I'm being so clingy? I can't stand it here alone…" her head hung low and a tear started to form in her eye. She was about to wipe it away when a somewhat startling finger pressed to her cheek and caught it for her. She blinked in disbelief, and looked at her companion as he flung the tear to the distance.

"Wha…?" she stammered, totally awestruck. Her sadness faded away and her arms flung out wide to wrap around G. He let out an audible grunt as she embraced him but he made no attempt to get away. The purple ooze that clung to his clothes then stuck to hers, but it was nothing new compared to the rips and tears they had already been through.

"Where do we go?" G finally asked, not particularly to Cat, but just in general.

"Nowhere," she replied, snuggling her face into the fold of his cloak. 

_Author's Note: Hey guys! Yeah so I totally fell back on my promise to start getting chapters out by the week. Life went nutso and here I am flipping my school and work hours around. Anywho, I haven't given up on any of my stories yet! (except maybe Hero of the Masks, but we won't talk about that). Please give me some feedback guys! Let me know what you think!_


	20. Chapter 4H: Proprietary Lust

A sinister smile cold enough to pierce the heavens could rest upon the face of only one woman in Runeterra. Evaine LeBlanc grinned ear to ear, standing in her elegant clothing with a strange ornament adorned to her head, as she knew her plan was falling directly into place, one brick at a time.

"You know what to do Malzahar my dear. Are you prepared?"

"I am always prepared to gather more food for the Void," he replied.

"Good," she said with a devious smile. "Gather, and gather well." With a nod, Malzahar slid away and out of the room. She turned her attention to the shadows and beckoned with a slim finger.

"You can come out now, darling," she whispered. A set of red eyes emerged from the shadows, attached to a stout frog-like creature, gray skinned with whiskers on the sides of cheeks. He wore a coat that barely fit around his fat belly, and a small hat rested meticulously atop his head.

"Perhaps he would be of better use to us than to serve as simplistic pawn?" the frog man gurgled.

"Oh Tahm Kench, dear. Haven't we already set all of the stones out before us?"

"It doesn't matter how well your path is paved, you can always place more stones around for support." Evaine laughed at the comment and let a hand gently brush the fat frog's whiskers.

"You are as long winded as usual Tahm. But I do not see the need to hold on to any more… loose ends, than necessary. Malzahar will do his part in luring in the lost and helpless, Azir and Zed will soon march on Ionia, Swain is invading Demacia as we speak, and the Institute is falling. What more do we need? This time, the chortle came from Tahm.

"You know, there are those who hold the same power in their appendages that I presently do."

"Yes, the other 'gods'. What trouble will they give us? Aatrox lust for war. He will simply contribute to our cause."

"He is no that on in which I am inquiring. The others will give us much more troublesome times," he snorted, folding his short stubby arms across his bloated chest.

"Oh? The spirit of Ionia will crumble as the country does. We can ignore Anivia. As the world is overcome with death, she will weaken and fall." LeBlanc clearly needed a little more clarification.

"There are seven of us in total, darling. You have merely mentioned four of them, and the other three are the ones that give me borborygmus."

"I… did not need to know that. But what of those three?" she demanded, starting to get hot. "You think that Bard will stand in our way? That fat flying balloon? Or perhaps Kindred or Kalista?"

"Balloon or not, Bard IS the one to balance us all. His inflatable self can align our priorities faster than a horse at the racetracks. And that's – "Tahm's expression grew grim as he lowered his voice away from the more friendly one had been using "where my concern lies."

LeBlanc pulled against her face and looked at the demon-like god in front of her. "The god of balance, I suppose. Kindred will merely do her job in allowing those who need to pass, pass. Kalista though… she could cause trouble if not attended to. We will keep an eye on her. So what is your, as you would say, proposition?" The catfish-frog's expression shifted back to a wide grimace.

"Let Malzahar put that being in a dimension where he cannot persist."

"Send him to the Void? Perhaps…"

"With Bard gone, you can continue through you with your plans and become the proprietor of Runeterra." Tahm licked his pudgy lips as if he lusted for nothing more than to possess the entirety of the planet he inhabited. LeBlanc flicked her long hair about her face and looked at Tahm with wide eyes.

"There is a reason I called upon you," she stated before leaving the room to discuss further plans with Malzahar.

"This is a feast my gluttonous desires cannot refuse," Tahm chuckled before sliding back into the shadows.


End file.
